


The Remarkable Turned Bizarre

by Arthur0098



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, At each other's throats, Crossover, Getting to Know Each Other, Lopez is a boss, Templars are evil, Zevran/Grey Warden, guns are better than swords, muskets triumph over steel, primitive screwheads, spacefarers in a strange land, stuck here with a marine, stuck here with an elite, the geneva conventions exist, trying to murder each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 19:36:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 55,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17168078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arthur0098/pseuds/Arthur0098
Summary: Knowing where you're going is preferable to being lost. After escaping the Mona Lisa, Sergeant Zhao Heng Lopez, and the Sangheili soldier called Henry, have crash-landed on a mysterious and strange planet. They must now survive this bizarre world, and each other, their worst enemy their only ally against the inhabitants. The war may be distant, but it weighs heavily on their minds.





	1. Chapter 1

The two combatants lunged at each other, shrieking primal war calls as the Flood pounded at the door.  
One brandished her now-useless MA5B Individual Combat Weapon System at her foe, the other held out a battered cricket-bat, streaked with various shades of blood.

 

Sergeant Zhao Heng Lopez knew this was pointless. Her assault rifle was out, there wasn’t time to reload, and multiple injuries including one ironically inflicted by a crazy ONI officer, was slowing her down. She was a badass, but even she had limits.

The nuke was headed their way, and even if she could win this fight, it would be too late. Thirty seconds...Goddamn you, MacCraw!  
They had trusted him! Sure, he was a complete idiot, but he had still been a marine, and still been one of her “kids”.

The rat had gotten in the other pod, right when her back was turned. Trying to save his ungrateful ass. 

Three survivors, out of an entire prison transport, and a squad of marines. God damn you, ONI!

She suspected “Henry”, the nickname they had for the hinge-head, was having similar thoughts, cursing his own allies. And all humans, probably.

 

In the instant before Lopez could try and bash the hinge-head’s skull in, Henry suddenly moved to the side. “Huh?”

He turned, and stepped behind her, grabbing the arm holding the rifle, and putting his other arm around her neck. Within seconds, the shark had her pinned.

The pounding at the door was growing more incessant as she fought the elite, trying to break free from his strong grip. Lopez had to get out fast; she had seen her first commanding officer decapitated in a similar situation.

He didn’t even flinch. Dragging her backwards, he reached out and tapped the control to open the remaining pod.  
She heard him doing something with one hand, something that involved creaking metal and tearing fabric. Handfuls of debris were thrown out, bouncing against her legs and spilling onto the deck.

“What the hell are you doing?” Lopez grunted, knowing that the elite didn’t speak a word of english.

FInally, he seemed satisfied, and dragged her into the pod...nearly a meter deeper than they should have.

Just in time, the airlock inner hatch broke open. She looked on in horror as the remains of one of her kids stared back. Lopez averted her eyes from the name tag, and squeezed her eyes shut.

Any second now…Goddamn you, Smith! Goddamn you, Rebecca, goddamn you, Commander Foucault, goddamn you! Goddamn you all to hell!

There was the sound of air hissing, and a chuff. G-forces abruptly forced her against...a hatch?  
“What the fuck…?”

The door was closed. The escape pod had launched. A very basic display showed their course vector. It was slightly obscured, as her face was pushed up against it. And the g-forces were kind of painful.  
We’re alive?

 

She remembered who else was in the pod. Adrenaline reserves, what little remained, kicked in, and she struggled against the arm restraining her.

There was a bark in an alien tongue, and her head slammed into the display. “You bastard, try and fight fair!”

There wasn’t any room to get her rifle around, maybe her pistol…

Henry had the same thought. The sergeant felt the comforting weight of her sidearm disappear, a four-fingered hand clumsily removing it from the old-style holster on her side.

“Sonova--” her cursing was cut off when the pod decided to do a backflip.

 

XXXXX

 

The human wouldn’t sit still. Sangheili Special Operations Officer 2nd Class Khutan ‘Mdattinee cursed, and shoved the vermin’s head forward again, hitting it against the viewport of the deathtrap the humans called an escape pod.

By the gods, who designed this abomination? They should be beheaded for their incompetence!

He had taken the human soldier hostage, knowing how much the vermin valued their allies. If Khutan had simply abandoned it aboard the prison transport, he would be gunned down by the other infidels when the pod was recovered.  
With their ally in his hands, however, they would at least hesitate. It might give him a chance for survival.  
Though given how little space there had been in the pod even after he cleared out the junk, Khutan questioned his judgement. His own head was on shoulder-level with the human’s, and it still could kick and punch.

The human moaned in a high-pitched voice, and began to thrash again. he felt it reach down to its thigh. By the rings, he had forgotten to take the creature’s sidearm!

Quickly, he snatched at it, tearing her holster slightly in his rush to remove it. The soldier grunted indignantly, and tried to elbow him again.

He grabbed the cretin by the neck, and was about to squeeze...when the pod shook, and began to shudder.

In fright, Khutan glanced around, fearing that the flimsy thing was falling apart before his eyes. To survive the parasite only to die in this deathtrap would be most dishonorable.

 

Again, as force pushed him against the uncomfortable frame of the seat, he cursed the designer of this abominable monstrosity. Khutan had known, had thought, that the chair was installed only for comfort, and ripped it out without a second thought.  
Even a species so primitive as the humans would have stasis fields, to protect the inhabitants of the escape pod...Or so he had believed. They were as simple an invention as the wheel, or safety belts.

He grunted in pain. As it turned out, there had been a reason for the “excessive” padding after all. The pod’s acceleration dampening systems were practically non-existent. Now he was being crushed against every angle of the vehicle, the human landing on him each time or vice versa, as the pod continued its confusing dance of chaos.

After several long moments of tumbling through concussive shockwaves, the vibrations ceased. The pod became silent again.

 

“What is happening?” He demanded, knowing that the human didn’t speak a single phrase of the Sangheili language.

The human coughed out something just as inquisitive, and began to struggle again. When he tried to stop it, the soldier grunted in frustration, and grabbed his head.

Tugging him close over its shoulder, it pointed to a primitive physical keyboard system, laid out against the interior of the vehicle.

Maybe there is a brain cell in there after all...He thought with a roll of the eyes, as it began to type away with its paws.

There was a sense of acceleration, and a loud hissing noise, before the pod began to tilt. Maneuvering thrusters.

He peered over the human’s shoulder, but was unable to make any sense of the controls. Oh, how he yearned for his combat rig! He could find out what in the name of the gods this primitive flying machine was saying, instead of having to rely on one of the vermin.

 

There was a sudden alarm, and Khutan noticed that there was a red indicator pointed at a planet on the display.

He saw the human’s eyes go wide, and began to bark inquisitively, then curse in its own language. It slapped several controls, before it turned its head as best it could. It looked him in the eyes, and grunted, “bettabace yorself enry”, before it curled up as tightly as it could.

More thrusters fired, and their momentum picked up. From the rear of the pod this time, squishing the sangheili against the human.

What are you afraid of? Khutan wondered...and saw the live feed in the corner of the display. The mist filling up and blocking the camera view. They were entering Threshold’s atmosphere.

“You fool! What have you done?” He roared in the human’s ear, making his own ring in the small space, “We’re going to be crushed!”

 

A lucky shot from the human’s elbow made his head snap back against the ceiling of the pod.

“Wer goin down ard! Dou wanna keelous both?”

The pod began to shudder in a different manner, much more intense. Distantly, but quickly growing louder, there was a sizzling sound, moisture from the pod boiling away as the heat of reentry began to burn the pod.

Desperate, Khutan tried to reach around the human, groping for the controls. Anything to send them out of the atmosphere. The human grabbed him in a headlock, and tugged painfully on one of his jaws.

He groaned in pain, and frantically signaled for a temporary cessation of hostilities. Khutan took a moment to poke at his fangs, checking to see if any were loose. Gods, this human has a grip!

The sound of air buffeting the pod filled his ears, and he glanced at the small viewports in confusion. The flames licking at the windows were beginning to fade, to be replaced with the stars. Stars that shimmered in a view only seen from inside an atmosphere. An atmosphere that did not belong to a gas giant.

By the prophets...What has happened?

They certainly weren’t above Threshold anymore.

 

XXXXX

 

Lopez’s jaw dropped along with Henry’s, as both stared out of the viewports. The sensors had told her, but deep down she hadn’t quite believed it.  
The atmosphere wasn’t Threshold’s. It was a goldilocks-planet. Roughly 70% nitrogen, 20-25% oxygen, 0.9% argon, and a smattering of other gases. Some the computer couldn’t even identify, and the oxygen was unusually high.  
She didn’t question the result, happy knowing there was somewhere to go, but it seemed all the more real and improbable now.

Oh shit! She scrunched herself up again, putting her hands over her head, just before her heart went out of her chest when the timer reached zero.  
The thrusters engaged, slowing their momentum heavily, and she fought the urge to vomit. Henry wasn’t doing too well either, his fists left several dents in the interior of the pod, and just about anything now was giving her bruises.

Lopez sucked in a breath, as nearly a minute after the thrusters fired, the parachute popped. She slammed against the front of the pod again, and Henry’s weight knocked the wind ut of her.

Alarms were whining as the escape pod slowly descended, and Lopez saw that there was an altitude indicator.  
“500 meters...250...100…” the computer voice spoke, as the sergeant’s training engaged, and she awkwardly reached down to tap a few controls.

“Scanning…Please Wait…” scrolled across the display. After about a minute, four bars appeared, and increased or decreased according to the results. Just as it had seen before. She hadn't been hallucinating.

 

“Hey squid-head,” she said with an insane laugh, leaning away from the elite breathing down her neck, “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore!”

Henry looked at her, and rolled his eyes. Must’ve been something he picked up from the guards on the Mona Lisa.

“10 meters.” the pod politely reported, and Lopez cursed again. With a loud crunch and a thud, the pod made landfall.

The elite realized it too. Their temporary “alliance” forgotten, he smashed her face against the hatch, and began feeling for release catches.

Lopez, weakened by the horrors of the past eleven hours, the blood loss from her leg(despite the bandage), and this little adventure, still had a bit of fight in her. She rammed both elbows into the elite’s sides, and slammed her head right back. Her combat helmet was an extremely strong but light advanced form of Kevlar, carbon nanotubes, and other space-age materials, it hit like a brick. While he was stunned, she quickly tapped commands into the display, and hammered on all four catches along the door.

With an explosive pop, the panel disappeared, soaring into the dark night sky above them as Lopez scrambled out.

“Yagh!” she landed on her injured leg, and fell to her knees, her helmet bouncing away. She rolled over, scrabbling with her rifle, and turned it against Henry, who was already clambering out to the other side.

The magazine indicator read “00”. Right. Shit!

She patted down her vest for a clip, watching either side of the pod for the elite. He was hiding behind it, waiting to pounce.  
“C’mon out, squid-lips! I won’t bite!” Lopez shouted, finding a surviving clip. She hit the release switch on her rifle, and shoved the new one in.

Rookie mistake. The charging handle wouldn’t move. “Motherfucker--” Sergeant Lopez cursed, and reached for her sidearm. Her missing sidearm.  
Goddamn them all!

Henry appeared at that moment, around the corner. Holding her M6D.

It would be laughable if it weren’t so deadly, the eight-foot tall elite holding a weapon designed for five-foot-six humans.

For a long moment, they stared at one another. Strange, Henry was on his knees, wheezing loudly, and his bat arm was barely holding him up. He looked as tired as she felt.

She winced when he pulled the trigger. Click.

Lopez’s expression of fear turned to that of predatory amusement as she watched Henry stare in confusion at the weapon, “Forgot to...take the safety off...didja?” She asked, panting as she struggled to sit up, “Well. Here...we are...again.”

He tossed the weapon aside, and leaned back on his legs. The alien looked exhausted, his jaws hung limply open, and his entire body was sagging.

Makes it a little easier on me...She struggled to her knees, but didn’t have the strength to stand.  
Against her will, the sergeant fell back onto her rear as well. Lopez growled in frustration, dropped her rifle, and pulled out her combat knife. Every movement was agonizing, and when she tried to pull herself forward, she fell flat on the cool snow under her.

From the sound, Henry had done the same thing. She felt a weak pair of large fingers manage to tug at her hair.  
“Don’t touch the hair, douchebag.” she mumbled, and managed to move out of his reach.

Lopez heard him garble something back. Probably an insult.

 

Damn, she was tired. As the adrenaline faded away, more exhaustion came. Not that I’ll get any rest, those damn things will haunt me till the day I die. Probably longer.

She hoped the nuke had gotten them all. The entire heavily armed squad had been lost fighting the unarmed ones, who knows what damage they could inflict if they could get ahold of actual weapons?

Lopez wondered what had happened in the days before the squad’s arrival on the Mona Lisa, the terror the prisoner and Henry had felt…

 

She jumped back into combat mode. Tightening her grip on her knife, she lifted her tired head. He was nearly passed out. With the right timing, she could slit his throat before he could react.  
Something made her hesitate, and it wasn’t just the exhaustion. Lopez’s head tilted forward, back into the soft fluffy snow.  
What was the problem? He was an elite, a hinge head, the enemy! And yet...Despite her experience, despite everything she had been through, Sergeant Lopez hesitated.

“Henry can have my shore leave.”

Lopez shook her head. They were at war. The bastard would do the same thing in an instant if given the chance.

“Don’t shoot! Henry’s okay! Don’t shoot!”

She shook her head again. What was up with her? Barely half an hour ago she had tried to kill the shark, and now she was hesitating?

He carried Benti in one massive arm, shooting every zombie coming their way. He beat them off with that bat of his, She was like a doll in his arms, limp and pale.

Lopez angrily pushed herself up onto her elbows. What was wrong with her?

“Benti, you’re hurt! Bad!” Blood dripped from the medic’s armor, all the way down her flank to her boots. All over Henry’s side. He had carried her here, all the way from the reactor.

Henry looked up at her weakly. He cocked his head slightly in surprise, staring at the knife in her hands.

“Sorry, there weren’t supposed to be any survivors.” Clarence’s voice was shockingly average and calm, the tone out of place, stating it like he was talking about his day. Their ears still rang from the gunshot that ended Rimmer. Henry and Lopez raised their weapons, both at Clarence, “Put down your weapon, private. Two against one.” The elite sided with the sergeant, and released Benti.

Henry began to pull himself further away, as Lopez looked from him to the knife.

 

They had been her kids, and with the exception of Mcgraw, they were all dead. Benti, Clarence, Burgundy...gone.  
They had been her responsibility. Her kids! Her friends and comrades. And this shark had been able to protect Benti better than she could.

Benti had trusted him. Begged her not to shoot him. She had given him an assault rifle instead of to the prisoner. Benti may have been young and naive, but she wasn’t stupid. She had trusted him. In return, Henry had done what the medic’s own squad leader couldn’t.

 

XXXXX

 

Khutan stared at the human. It seemed to be in some sort of internal debate, looking from him to the knife. What was it waiting for?

Even if he had the energy, he didn’t know if he could have killed this human. He felt an odd sort of respect for it.

It was the enemy. It was vermin. An infidel.

 

The healer had trusted this one though. This one had been the healer’s lance leader. The healer begged its superior not to kill Khutan, judging by the tone it had used when they met up.

His feet pounding on the deck as he turned the corner, Khutan was surprised to see two human warriors defending the pods. They leveled their weapons at the new arrival, and Khutan’s package jabbered away in its own language, pleading with the lance leader.  
For an instant, it seemed as though he would be gunned down. After a moment though, the lance leader jerked its head, and Khutan’s companions moved forward.

Khutan knew dozens of fellow officers who would have abandoned their men in the same situation. Two pods, two humans. Even if they had waited, there wouldn’t be enough space. Why not leave? Why had the lance leader not retreated?

As Khutan approached, he looked the two creatures up and down. The weaker of the two was frightened beyond belief, and by the smell, had soiled himself numerous times. The other showed no fear, only grim determination. He noticed that it was shaking, but not out of fear. A crimson liquid stained a bandage on its upper leg, and could not hold the vermin steady.

So that was why it remained! Khutan realized, they were dishonored, to withdraw would mean their entire family dishonored. If they could save their subordinates, in death, honor would be regained. The elite approved, and out of respect for a worthy opponent, raised the human from an “it” to a “they”. Not that Khutan could tell what gender the human was, under all that armor.

But they are human! They are without honor!

His culture and teachers told him that sometimes they would try and surrender instead of finding an honorable death; evidence that they were a species without respect for their families, without honor.  
But advanced military training told him not to underestimate them. There were very strange creatures, and could be quite unpredictable. 

The healer, a member of the most wretched people in society, it had not given up either. Injured, what little honor it had to begin with gone, the insect--healer, had saved both Khutan and the lance leader. It sacrificed itself to eliminate the human soldier that had killed Khutan’s companion.

In fact, among the human soldiers aboard the prison transport, he had seen only one dishonorable act.

The sound of servos whirring and clamps releasing their cargo brought their attention away from the hatch. The lance leader roared in anger with Henry; the most unworthy of their group had stolen one of the remaining pods from those who deserved it.

Not only had the lance leader disapproved of the act, but they had been even more enraged than Khutan!  
Even without honor, the lance leader and the healer could not accept what either of those those cretins had done!

 

The human who had been Khutan’s companion in the long days since the release of the parasite, he had been without honor as well. A prisoner. Without any other choice, Khutan had to vow to defend the “Rimmer” creature, and from what little Khutan had gathered of the human language, Rimmer had done the same.  
Khutan would never break the vow until he regained contact with friendly forces, dishonored as he may be, but Rimmer was an animal, why would he respect such a thing? Khutan had been unwilling to sleep the first few days he had been so aware of this fact.  
Yet they had protected one another, kept the parasite back for so long. Despite the righteous crusade against the humans, the “Rimmer” had not tried to kill him in all that time.

Perhaps the anarchists’ lies held an ember of truth. Maybe there really were some honorable humans among the vermin.

 

He realized that the human had lowered the knife, and put it back in its sleeve. It seemed confused as well, scratching his head in the same manner Rimmer had.

The human got onto their knees, and crawled over to the escape pod. They tried to crawl onto it, but yelped in pain. Fool, it’s still hot.

Khutan wondered why the human hadn’t killed him. Judging by the various scars, they were a veteran of many battles with his own people. One of the soldier’s eyes glinted in the light in an off-putting manner, they had lost the eye entirely long ago.  
The lance leader managed to get to their feet again, and gingerly reached into the pod, withdrawing a crate. They opened it, revealing standard survival equipment for an escape pod. The human removed one device in particular, a small pod with four small circles symmetrically arranged around it. The device looked like a youngling’s toy.  
The human tapped a control on their arm, and let go of the device. There was a small whirring sound, and to Khutan’s surprise, the device soared into the air. Some sort of reconnaissance drone he realized.

 

It flew straight up, out of sight into the darkness of the night sky. Khutan looked around, taking in the area for a moment. If the human was signaling reinforcements, he would have to use the environment against them. Outside of the tattered remnants of shorts he was issued after his combat harness had been confiscated, and the “crooked-bat” he retrieved from the guards aboard the human transport, he had no equipment.

The pod had come down in the middle of a snow-covered clearing, leaving a small crater. Four large orange sheets of cloth dangled from cables attached to the corners of the vehicle. The pod apparently relied upon braking thrusters and these sheets for deceleration. Considering how delicate they were, Khutan suspected that they were a means to dissuade human crews from abandoning ship. The sheets had served their purpose this time, getting them down in one piece.

Around them was a wide forest, much like those on Qikost, during Khutan’s youth. Several memories came back, he fondly recalled hunting wild beasts with his uncle in clearings just like this one.

He noticed the human was now sitting near the pod, holding one of their electronic tablets. A hologram emerged from it, and seemed to show some sort of landscape.  
It’s a scanner, then, made to examine the surrounding terrain.

Khutan struggled to his knees, and froze at the sound of a weapon being drawn. The human wasn’t even looking at him as it pointed a pistol at the sangheili.  
The strips of fur above the human’s eyes moved inwards at an angle, they seemed angry. They lightly smacked the side of the device, and tapped a few controls.

The human growled in frustration, and looked at Khutan. “Ges weiron arown, alligator.” It said.

Khutan let out a breath in a hiss at the mention of the human word referring to him. How dare they brand a soldier of the Covenant with their own vile language!  
“Henry” he didn’t take much offense to, it had been the term Rimmer used for him. Though Khutan did assume that it was some sort of insult, applied in the same manner as “vermin” or “animal” by Covenant soldiers. Judging by the reactions of the other humans, it wasn't too offensive at least.

The human pulled himself to their feet, still leaning on the quickly-cooling pod for support. They looked at Khutan as he stood up as well, not so weak as to have to lean on anything. For a second, they stared at one in the eyes, daring the other to do something.

To his surprise, the human reached into a vest pocket, and pulled out a bar wrapped in foil. They tossed it to Khutan’s feet, and removed another from the same pocket.  
With exaggerated movements, the human ripped open the package, and bit off a piece of its contents.

With hesitation, Khutan picked up the bar. He experienced minor difficulty in opening the package, and sniffed it. Meat?

His stomach audibly growled, he hadn’t had a good meal in months, and not even proper food in weeks. Khutan used his two lower jaws to bite off a chunk, and nearly dropped it. he forced it into his mouth with his hand, and glared at the human.

This is delicious! Rapidly he devoured all of it, and may have accidentally swallowed part of the wrapper in his haste to get the few remaining crumbs.

 

The human stared with an amused expression on their face, and the corner of their mouth turned upwards. “Betcha usedu eaten baybees, huh?” it asked, a harsh tone to its voice.

“Do not think that this will save you, vermin. However, once my brothers have rescued me, I will ensure that you are given a swift death.”

The human abruptly crouched down in the dirt, and using one finger, drew a circle. Inside the circle they drew a very crude caricature of a human, nothing more than a few lines with a circle for the head. Beside the caricature, they drew an oval, with a square in it.  
Khutan looked from the drawing to the pod, and realized that it was a crude depiction of the craft. On the other side of the pod, the human drew a similar caricature to him or herself, but with a different head. It was more triangular, and looked like...He nodded in realization. It was a drawing of a Sangheili combat helmet. It was meant to represent him.

Khutan gestured for the human to continue, “Do not waste my time, curr. Make your point.”

The human rolled its eyes, and to either side of the circle drew several points. Stars...The circle is the planet.  
They drew three more of the human figures, and three sangheili figures.  
To the left, the human drew an odd-looking rectangular shape. When Khutan shrugged, the human drew another different shape. It was a rectangle, with a triangle on one end…

The special operations officer nodded enthusiastically, identifying it as a drawing of a human vessel. One of their strong small vessels. They were unofficially known as Carnifex ships around the fleet, appearing to be small and harmless, but in reality were extremely deadly. They were named after a bird found on a Covenant world over a century ago, small birds that inflicted heavy casualties upon the colonists. The world had been quarantined ever since.

On the other side, the human drew the silhouette of a CCS-class battlecruiser. When Khutan confirmed that he knew what it was, the human crossed out their own race’s vessel, the other three human figures, and then the battlecruiser, along with the three sangheili.

The human drew and redrew a smaller circle around their own representations, and tapped it several times for emphasis. The human gestured to the dark landscape around them, and then tapped the drawing with their foot.

“Wer alon heer, split-lip,” they said, and spoke rapidly, too fast for Khutan to track.

He looked at the drawing again. No humans, no imperial forces, in space or on the planet…”We are alone, then?”

 

Khutan’s first instinct was to snap the creature’s neck, and roast them over an open fire. However, he took a second look at the survival equipment next to the pod. He had no idea how to operate any of it. He couldn’t even tell which of the shining packages contained food, and which held something that might kill him if he ate it.

Against his better judgement, he realized that they needed each other. The human was injured, and most likely would not survive an attack by wild animals. Khutan needed the survival equipment.

Reluctantly, he lowered his weapon. “We are allies, for now, cretin. But once we get off the wretched planet, I will take great pleasure in killing you.”

 

XXXXX

 

Sergeant Lopez grunted as she lifted out the next piece of cargo from within the remains of the pod.  
More rations it looked like. She threw it onto the small pile gathered next to the fire Henry was tending to.

Not for the first time, she noted how odd it was that a hinge-head was not only able to understand her insane waving, but was also willing to agree to an alliance.  
Guess mister alligator figured humans weren’t so bad...she thought, climbing off the pod for a bit of a rest.

Frustratingly, there had been only two more weapons inside the pod. An M6 sidearm, either an A or B model, and an old-style MA3 rifle, heavily modified to only allow for semi-automatic firing. Enough ammo to last a while, though. They hadn't skimped on that. Enough to equip a fireteam of soldiers if need be.

Been decades since this thing’s seen service, let alone commissioning. Why am I not surprised this pod’s full of junk? 

Half the rations were rotten, and all were dated 2497. She didn’t want to think about kept the rest from spoiling, though her own MREs weren’t much better. They would have to go hunting, ASAP.

The electronics of the pod, and the survival kits were partly operational, though many of them were obsolete. They would still provide a good fallback though, and the drones would be helpful if Henry ever tried running off. Some of them were able to tell her things her own gear couldn’t, such as why they landed on a different planet than the one they’d been orbiting.  
Thanks to Benti, the Mona Lisa’s slipspace drive started going nuts, sending out waves of something, generating small anomalies all over the place. Given how strangely those engines worked even when working properly, the effects were made much worse in a malfunctioning and heavily damaged state. It seemed one anomaly opened up right under their pod’s hatch. When they went through, they ended up in the planet’s upper atmosphere. Somehow.

Luckily, the medical kit had been constantly updated, even a neglected transport like the Mona Lisa had to follow some regulations. 

Some of the stuff in the pod wasn’t standard, especially not for a prison transport. Firearms, and plenty of ammo for instance. She assumed, given the pod’s proximity to the bridge, some spooks wanted security in case the prisoners got out. But then the guys in charge didn’t want any issues with the inmates getting ahold of the pods, so they split the difference. Half shit equipment, and half piss-poor.

 

Despite the age of the firearms, the ammo would work in what weapons Lopez and Henry had brought with them. The sergeant made sure they were all still there, an M6D, and a pair of MA5Bs. Hers and PFC Gersten’s. 7.62mm wasn’t the best for hunting with, but it worked in a pinch.

Gersten was one of the few veterans in the squad. How’d he buy it? Lopez wondered. All she had was his rifle, and Henry wasn’t exactly forthcoming.

Somehow, a handful of grenades had survived the mad dash from the bridge to the escape pods. They might come in handy. Yeah, to shove in Henry’s face hole when he attacks me, Lopez thought grimly.

She double checked that she could easily reach her weapon, before laying her tired head back against the now-cool pod for a moment.

 

Lopez realized what she was doing, and sat up. She couldn't go to sleep, not with Henry there. On instinct she was about to activate a stimulant injection, but stopped herself.

Her BDUs were far in advance of those used on pre-slipspace Earth, possessing automatic medical systems, smart fabrics, sensors, communications, and more; putting more resources on a single soldier than an entire squad of United States Marines combined had once possessed.  
The expendables had been drained by the Mona Lisa, but she had replenished all of the stockpiles of medicine, food, and other consumable equipment from a surplus in the pod. Even so, she was unwilling to use anything, given her limited supplies. She had turned off the automatic injection systems for the same reason. 

To keep herself awake, she focused on work. Reaching over, she picked up the tablet connected to the recon drone.  
There weren’t many energy readings in the valley around them. Unsurprisingly, it confirmed the sergeant’s suspicions that they were alone.

 

However, before she could sink further into despair, the drone’s feed began to beep incessantly.  
Lopez deactivated the alert, and stared intently at the camera footage. There was a settlement, just over the ridge!

From what the sensors told her, it was fairly primitive, no electronic devices of any kind. There was what looked like a smithery, for simple metallurgy work. The buildings were made from wood and straw, and she could see horse-like creatures drawing wagons.  
Did we just stumble onto someone’s little Medieval period? Shit, just by landing we probably made a whole new religion.

On closer inspection, she found it to be closer to the pre-Renaissance era back on Earth. The only difference being a handful of energy spikes. There were no other signals of technology, however, maybe it was a result of the landscape. That, or her equipment was just worn out. The alien infestation--

A shiver went down her spine at the thought of the monsters aboard the Mona Lisa, the Flood. The creatures that had eaten the crew, and her kids. Instead of the breakdown she expected, the whining and tears she expected from such a loss, there was only a cold realization that she had lost all of them.  
For the moment, she was thankful for whatever kept her apart from her emotions. She knew the floodgates would open eventually, seeing it in other veterans, and herself a few times, but was glad to not have to waste the effort crying. Marines didn't do that. Not in public, and sure as hell not next to a hinge-head.

Henry stopped tending the fire, and glanced up. Apparently noticing her shiver.

“The fuck you lookin’ at?” She snapped.

He seemed to shrug, perhaps something he'd picked up from that prisoner, Rimmer, and went back to his work.  
Lopez glared for a moment more, but curiosity soon overtook rage. She wondered how he was dealing with the loss, realizing that he had lost more than she. She still had a ship somewhere out there, probably trying to find her. A slipspace anomaly should've been noticeable even through a nuclear blast. At least she'd hoped it would be.  
Unlike her however, Henry might have lost everything, judging by the debris field the Mona Lisa had been found in. His unit was gone, his ship assumed destroyed...She doubted his people even knew he was alive. The elite had watched his fellows being taken away one by one to be experimented upon by the zombies. He’d suffered through the long weeks surviving aboard the Mona Lisa, seeing who-knew what horrors. He’d even lost Rimmer, his only friend and ally through the long days surviving before Benti’s team had found them.

 

Her eyes fluttered again, and she debated sleeping. She would have to, sometime, but he was still the enemy. Regardless of their little alliance, every fiber of her being told her to kill him.  
Lopez was a veteran of over ten years in the war with the Covies, she’d lost a lot of friends to them. She’d lost her eye to an energy sword as a greenhorn, along with half her squad before a Scorpion tank happened along and cut the zealot to shreds.  
They were the ones intent on wiping out all of humanity for bullshit reasons, who destroyed nearly everything the United Nations built as they clawed their way through the galaxy, and who wiped out god-knew how many people.

He'd made peace, yes, but could either of them trust the other--or themselves-- not to kill each other in their sleep?

Benti had trusted him, said a nagging part of her mind, and he didn't kill Rimmer in all their time together.  
Then there was what her own experience told her. The alligators and their sense of honor. The Covies had no mercy for humans, killing any they could find. But the elites...They were all about fair fights. Usually.

A brute or a grunt ran off of similar rules to humans, killing them in their sleep, unarmed, whatever. All's fair in warfare, after all. The only difference was that humans would accept an offered surrender. But ONI intelligence briefings, backed by video footage, showed several distinct cases of elites refusing to kill unarmed soldiers.  
One clip that stood out to her was of a helmet cam from a marine in a barracks, his unit completely unprepared for battle. The elites broke down the doors, two minors and a gold motherfucker with two plasma rifles apiece. The marine’s rifle too far away to reach, they should've gunned him down. But the golden one noticed the marine, and held back another from shooting the man. After a moment's hesitation, the marine dove for his rifle and barely managed to squeeze off half a burst before they shot him.

Civilians and most navy squids they didn't distinguish, killing them no matter what. But armed squids and grunts in general they held a strange respect for. If one lost their weapon, or were found unarmed, chances were it would allow time for the human to find a weapon, then kill them.

 

So...The million dollar question. Would he consider it dishonorable to kill her in her sleep? The briefings insisted that he wouldn't, but the elites considered capture dishonorable, and military intelligence was an oxymoron anyway. Would he try and maintain what little honor he had left, or just say “fuck it”?

 

She jumped when Henry moved into her field of vision. Raising her pistol at him, she inquired, “Yes, split-lip? ”

He pointed at her chest, and she furrowed her brow, looking down. “Very funny, split-lip, there’s nothing there.” Wouldn’t have figured a hinge-head would try something stupid like that...

Henry rolled his eyes, and drew a small line across the center of his chest. His finger made small little squiggling motions, then he pointed to her again.  
“Um…”

He pointed to himself, and let out several syllables of gibberish. Back to her again.

“What the hell…?”

Henry picked up a pebble, and with surprising accuracy, flicked it at her chest plate.

“Are you trying to get yourself shot, you damn waste of life?”

Henry sighed, then with significant effort, mumbled, “Ri-e-er. ‘En--ii. Clarence.” and pointed to Lopez’s side for some reason.  
When that didn’t work, he pointed to himself, and said something that sounded like vomiting in reverse while simultaneously singing “I’m a yankee doodle dandy”. Or something to that effect equally unpronounceable.  
When she didn’t react, he rolled his eyes once more, and pointed to himself, “Enri. Enry. Henry.”

She furrowed her brow, “Are you trying to…” Lopez pointed at him, “Henry.”

He looked at her in a very drawn out manner, then with yet another eye-roll, nodded, and gestured to her.

Shrugging, she pointed to herself, and began, “Sergeant...Lopez...”

As she repeated herself, and Henry struggled with the words, she contemplated her introduction.

Had it been that long? Had she lost that many people? No one ever addressed her by first name, and she never gave it anymore. She only ever replied to “sergeant” or “Lopez” now. When was the last time she had even heard the word?

Realizing that Henry was unable to pronounce “Lopez” correctly(sounded like escaping air every time he said it), she licked her lips and pointed to herself again.  
“Zhao.”

Henry tilted his head, seemingly surprised, then with a surprising amount of ease, “Zhao.”

The word sounded strange to her ears, stranger to say as she repeated it and nodded.

He pointed at her, “Sssagent Lofesh...Zhao?”

“No, wrong way, you idiot. Sergeant...Zhao...Lopez.”

“Sargent Zhao Lofess.”

Lopez facepalmed, “How about just ‘Sargeant Zhao’. Get it, split-chin? Sa--r--ge--ant...Zhao!”

It took many, many tries. “Sergeant...Zhao.”

“Sweet Christ...finally. Yes!” she nodded exaggeratedly.

He tried the name over and over, “Zhao?”

Henry pointed to himself, and let out that sound again, the weird puke-singing sound. That must have been his name.

She shook her head, “No way in hell...fine.” she made very little effort to make it sound proper, not that it would make much difference.  
“It’s easier to say Henry. Can I call you Henry?” Or whatever slur she could think of.

She made the gargle imitation, shook her head, then pointed to him, “Henry,” and nodded her head.

He hissed, but at Lopez’s twitch toward her handgun, he relented. Striding over to the other side of the fire, he sat down heavily. He moved into a cross-legged position, and with his cricket back across his legs, stared back across the space at Lopez.

 

Lopez ignored his gaze and reached for a ration packet. She heard a light jingle, and froze as her hand brushed against several light items.

She inhaled sharply, then exhaled. Gently, she pulled out the three sets of dog tags.

Rabbit. Singh. Mahmoud. Infected then beaten to death. Throat slit. Crushed.

How did that split-lip bastard, the one who’d stomped Rabbit’s head in, know it was incurable? If they had found Rabbit before it had found her, maybe they could have gotten through to her, or maybe even just knocked her into submission until they could get to the Red Horse’s medical bay. The crew of the Mona Lisa had been infected for a while, maybe it took a while to take effect. Maybe it just affected covies the worst.

Those section III eggheads may have been trying to control the zombies, but surely  
someone with some fucking scruples had to be working on a cure.  
Briefly, she regretted her decision to allow the destruction of the Mona Lisa, instead of trying to talk the Commander out of it, wondering if the info in the labs was irrecoverable. Kicking herself, she pointed out that she hadn't had any choice in the matter, and that gold-plated Greek bitch who didn't deserve to be anywhere near Chauncey’s data core probably would've overridden the launch control anyway. And section III was nothing if not paranoid, tons of off site storage was likely. Without live test subjects though, their sick experiments would be over. She hoped. Even section III wasn't stupid enough to keep live zombie spores offsite. She desperately hoped.

The other two losses, her intellect told her it was unavoidable, she couldn’t think of any way to save them. Smith had been an officer, and up to that point looked like a wimp. How could she have seen Singh’s death coming? And Mahmoud, he’d just died of bad luck.  
Was there a way of saving them that she hadn’t seen, though? What if…

 

Roughly shoving the tags back in her pocket, Lopez buried all the emotions in a mental hole, and poured mental cement over it.  
She rested her head back against the pod once more, laying her hand on her pistol. She closed her eyes for a second. Just to make them stop hurting…

 

XXXXX

 

Benti disappearing into the mass of zombies, pushing a screaming Clarence ahead of her. The Rimmer guy being shot, the single round clattering to the deck as his brains splattered across a bulkhead. Pouring rounds into one Flood zombie after another, some with the shattered mandibles of elites, others the screaming faces of humans. Singh’s skull crushed as the zombie slams into him. Percy’s neck twisting. The head of what once had been Ayad exploding. Mahmoud desperately trying to hold in his own blood from the foaming wound in his neck. Cranker’s last radio transmission, screaming as he fired full-auto. Seeing that split-lip standing over Rabbit, mercilessly crushing every part of her. Her fault. She should have seen it coming. She should have known. They were her responsibility.

 

Suddenly, the scene seemed to stabilize. She was looking down into the eyes of a grinning elite zealot holding her feet off the ground up against the alleyway wall. Algolis. Three bodies were scattered around. One with his neck at the wrong angle. One slumped against the wall trying to hold in her insides as blood pooled. The final body was prone on her back, her weapon fusing her arm raised in defense to her chest wound. All wore UNSC marine green.  
Instincts kicked in, and she tried to beat at the thing’s hand, attempting to pull out her knife. But her hands wouldn’t work right. They hit with the force of a terrified little snot-nosed rookie, rather than those of a hardened twenty-year combat veteran. Uncoordinated, they only made the thing laugh. Her knife clattered to the ground, only succeeding in making it laugh harder.  
The elite raised a fist, and flexed its fingers. A field of energy in the shape of a small pointed dagger sprouted from its wrist, and she realized with horror that its fingers were covered in the blood of her comrades.  
It didn’t drive it into her gut. 

Instead with precision and guidance, and with obvious glee it moved it over her right eye. She could feel the heat of the blade, and shrieked as it made a shallow yet extremely painful cut into her forehead.  
She continued to scream as the energy dagger slid down, cutting through her eyelid as half her vision vanished in a wave of pain and shock.  
Her shrieks of pain echoing through the alley mired with the raucous laughter of the zealot.

 

XXXXX

 

Lopez snapped awake, and saw a pair of yellow eyes staring down at her. As if she was running on automatic, not in control of her actions, she felt her fist collide with the face the eyes belonged to, then her other hand clasp her combat knife.  
Swiftly jumping onto all fours and moving her knees under her chest, she launched herself under the zealot’s arms and into his midsection, knocking him on his back.  
When she raised her knife to stab the zealot’s blood-covered hand to make him release his energy sword, he grabbed her by her backplate and pulled, throwing the sergeant to his side.  
She felt the wind knocked out of her when he hit her in the stomach, allowing the zealot to yank her knife out of her hands and place his hoof on her chest.

 

As she struggled, and punched the leg, she realized that there was no golden alien combat boot. In fact, the only thing he wore was a pair of tattered black shorts. The energy sword was a battered cricket bat. It wasn’t a zealot. It was Henry.

Lopez didn’t care. “Well?! Go on! Take the other one! Be my guest! Go hang around with your buddy, you’ll have matching pairs but oh wait we sent him straight to hell! Just like we’re going to do to your whole fucking race!”

Henry looked at the knife in his hand. It was disproportionate just like the pistol, looking like a toy as he studied it.  
“Well, what are you gonna do, hinge-head? What’re you gonna do?” she roared.

“Zhao…” he croaked, then added the blargs and worts and growls his kind always spoke in.

“Oh, fer fuck’s sake! Speak english you ugly bastard dino! Otherwise, do whatever it is you’re gonna do, or leave me alone!”

The weight on her chest shifted, and he worted again.

“Fuck you, you bastard! Why’d you have to survive?! Why’d one stupid ugly fucking midget hinge-head survive?!” it was true, he was a bit shorter than other elites she’d met in the past, only about seven feet, “Why’d they have to die?! Why are we still alive?!”

Henry raised the knife...and threw it into the dirt next to her head.

He shifted his jaws slightly, pointed to her, and said, “Zhao. No…” then added a strange quiet howling noise.

“Speak. English. You. Dumb. Fuck.”

He sighed and gave up with whatever he was trying to do. He got off her, and walked to the other side of the fire, sitting down again.  
“What the hell…?” she mumbled, sitting up and snatching up her M6D, aiming it. Henry glared back at her, with the same amount of hatred in his eyes as she felt.

He hadn’t slit her throat. He had the opportunity to kill her. She’d let her guard down, she’d fallen asleep, and he hadn’t killed her?

 

XXXXX

 

Khutan’s ears were still ringing from the human’s shrill screaming, and his jaw still hurt from where he was hit. Why hadn’t he killed them? 

The thing…”Zhao”, had finally fallen asleep, shutting up for five seconds...before it started making noise. It started moaning at first, rolling around and twitching. Then there were some words he could discern but not recognize, and it’s moans turned to yells.  
Then it let out a terrified scream, the one he’d heard on dozens of worlds and from hundreds of throats.  
Of course, he had to make sure Zhao wasn’t going to hurt him or herself, and moved to see what was happening. The human seemed to be dreaming, but woke up and suddenly attacked him without reason.

He’d heard of those types of night terrors. Who knew humans had enough brain cells for that? Then again, stupid races don’t build spaceships.

As he glared at Zhao, he noted the other’s eyes were mirrored with the same amount of hate he felt. Khutan also noted the scar across their eye once again. The pattern was quite similar to one of his own scars, left by a type-2 energy dagger. The course of the cut should have removed the eye. Why weren’t they dead? Dishonored like that should’ve been a death sentence. Even if the healers hadn’t killed them, and had done their heinous work, how were they still on the front lines?

So Zhao did have some personal reasons to hate. A Sangheili just like him had decided to have some fun before going in for the kill. Unsuccessful.

He glared back with equal hate.

 

The burn of the shock stick still hurt, but it was nothing compared to Tysze’s screams. First he had been letting out challenges, damning all the infidels to the underworld. Distantly, he heard the clang of a metal door. Then, his lance-mate let out a curse, and began to scream, screaming words never thought possible to be uttered by Sangheili mandibles.  
“Help! Let me out! Let me out, you thrice-gods-damned fools! Help! Don’t let it get me! Help!”

 

Unconsciously, his hand went to a scar on his lower abdomen. A small perfectly round circle surrounded by brand-new skin.


	2. Chapter 2

Sergeant Lopez awoke to a bright blue sky. Several clouds drifted lazily through the sky, though there were no birds to speak of. Unsurprising, given that it was winter.  
Her face was cold, despite the balaclava she’d wrapped around her face before falling asleep, and it hurt a little to take a deep breath.  
“Damn...gotta get a tent set up or something. Maybe an actual sleeping bag this time.”

Her suit’s systems kept her warm, but she’d set out with it readied for a starship environment, not a winter wonderland. She’d forgotten to readjust the systems. Normally they were supposed to be automatic but since the latest software update they were pretty buggy.   
As she sat up, she had difficulty getting the joints in her clothes to move again, a layer of snow having frozen on overnight. Noting her HUD was missing, she pulled off her helmet, and whacked it against the side of the escape pod, knocking the frost loose. Putting her bucket back on, the HUD was back, flickering a little before remaining constant.  
Her tactical datapad, or TACPAD, was still operational, and Lopez used it to turn up several of her suit’s heaters to winter levels.  
Checking her weapons, Lopez found them still in working order, both her personal weapons and the extra rifles and sidearm she kept in a bag and slept on.

Then she remembered her...acquaintance. Glancing around, she noted the fire was still active, but very low. And one of the parachutes was wrapped around what looked like a large statue that hadn’t been there the night before. Then its head tilted, breaking loose some frost that had developed along the neck. She could barely hear Henry’s breathing, his four jaws all falling open, limply. He wasn’t shivering too much, and when he moved his fingers, reaching for his cricket bat, they were very clumsy and couldn’t grasp it properly. He garbled and mumbled something, sounding even more slurred than usual.  
“Oh shit.”

Taking a small plastic packet from the pile of equipment beside her, Lopez stepped over and began to break it open. The thermal blanket was packed very tightly, but unfolded to be just big enough to envelop the frozen Elite.  
When fully unfurled, she hesitated to throw it on. 

Elite. Hingehead. Enemy. Who knew how many humans he’d disemboweled? Maybe Elites were good meat. A little frostbitten, but probably way better than the MREs she had.

No...Can’t. No one deserves to freeze to death. And he doesn’t have a wounded leg, nor any weapons. We need each other.

She wrapped the thermal blanket around him and looked around the clearing for any dead wood. Along the edge, under the trees, she found plenty, and what looked like a tree stump some creature had dug up. Dumping everything into the fire, she rapidly deployed over it the cooking rig that came with the survival kit. Sticking the pot in the snow, she collected a large amount and mounted it to the rig.  
“C’mon, don’t die on me, you bastard,” she hissed, moving back and rubbing the alien’s arms to try and get the blood flowing, “Benti’s gonna haunt me if you do, and I’d have no one to talk to!”  
Or curse at…   
Heaving with the effort, she shifted him closer to the fire, and suddenly smelled fresh tar. She cursed again, realizing the alien’s skin was cracking from the cold and dry air. She took a spare set of bandages and wrapped them around his fingers and palms with duct tape. A cold-weather jacket from the escape pod served to cover his head.

Lopez didn’t actually know if any of this would work. All she knew about Elite biology was where to shoot or stab them. And they could take slightly more cold than humans could. Why was he so cold? He’s out here with only a pair of pants on, of course he froze!

 

After a few minutes, Henry opened his eyes, blinking rapidly. He garbled slightly, shivering, and looked surprised at his swaddled-up hands, then to Lopez. He worted.

“I don’t speak your language, dipshit, get that through to that peanut brain of yours!” Lopez snarled.

Hearing the bubbles from the pot, she grabbed her canteen cup, “Yer damn tea’s ready. Don’t have any sugar, you’ll just have to make due.”

Pushing the steaming water into his frozen hands, Henry paused before drinking. He sniffed it, his sinuses sounding clogged, and shook it a little.

“It’s just snow, drink it, idiot! If I wanted to kill you I woulda shot you! Who the hell carries poison in their kits anyway!?”

Lifting it to his mandibles, Henry succeeded in getting more on himself than down his gullet because of the way his mouth was shaped. The fact that he didn’t make a sound said volumes about his training, or how freaking cold he was.

She took out several hot water bottles, filled them, and placed them at his feet and hands. Then she refilled the cup and he drank it better this time, though still clumsily. He was returning to normal at a very rapid rate. By her clock, it had been less than an hour since he woke up.

 

This would only hold for a short time she realized, he needed permanent winter protection. The winter clothes in the pod were all designed for humans, however.

Inspiration struck when her eyes fell on the parachutes lying around the area, the emergency orange still showing through the previous night's snowfall. They were made of a mixture of nylon and other strong fibers, that were also used for making clothing. In fact, that was why their design had barely changed since the earliest days of spaceflight. With the addition of a few extra fabrics, the parachutes could be used to create additional clothing if required by shipwreck survivors.

Using her TACPAD’s sensor, built into her gauntlet, she got a scan of Henry’s height, and grabbed the remaining three parachutes.  
Making creative use of the material would be difficult, though. She didn’t exactly know where to start.  
Eventually, after an unsuccessful attempt that tore up one, she went through the survival manual contained on the tablet stored in the pod.  
It was a very strange tablet, actually. Whoever designed and programmed it was very, very, very creatively paranoid. A section on making clothing from parachutes wasn’t too surprising, but It didn’t just contain basic survival skills; the blueprints of massive amounts of technology were stored inside. There were sections that ranged from the construction of a forge to smelting steel, from creating swords to the basics of firearms, farming(for the seeds stored somewhere in the pod), basic fixed-wing aircraft, formulas on construction of many artificial materials. She’d known modern spacecraft possessed certain segments that could be reused in the event of a crash, but this was ridiculous.  
The paranoia was just the tip of the iceberg. There were programs for first-contact, english primers, adaptive translation software, along with the history of humankind. This amount of optimistic thinking clearly placed the construction of the device as pre-war, where everyone was hoping the aliens around the bend would be friendly and they could romp through the flowers together. Or some other hippy bullshit like that.  
Lopez snorted under her breath at that. Few people held those thoughts anymore. Then again, I’m making a snowsuit for a goddamn alligator. Who am I to talk?

The computer managed to do her job for her, generating an outfit that would fit the needs, and all Lopez needed to do was follow the instructions. She managed to make a kind of large jacket from the remains of the torn up parachute, it was the only thing the computer agreed would fit him and provide the warmth needed. She also taped something together to cover his legs, feet and hands. According to the survival manual, the gear was modeled after a style from the 19th century, the British Empire’s arctic weather equipment.  
The sergeant didn’t exactly care, it would keep the fucker alive, wouldn’t it?

She stepped back over to the shivering alien, and threw the suit at him. Flashing a black and white picture with some guy named Shackleton wearing a crappier version of the suit, she gestured from him to the clothes, “Either freeze or put ‘em on. I don’t care.”

Surprisingly, he didn’t hesitate. Henry was more alert than she’d thought, recognizing their nature and immediately pulling on the snowsuit before diving back under the thermal blanket again.

 

Lopez set about reading the survival manual. Clearly, it contained more than she’d expected. She’d noted a chapter on “Usage of Survival Capsule”.  
She’d expected it to be like an ODST Single Occupant Exoatmospheric Insertion Vehicle(SOEIV), IE crammed full of supplies and equipment, but this was ridiculous.  
Built into the titanium skin was a section that could be pulled off to serve as a bolo blade, the handle stored at the feet of the occupant alongside some other equipment. There were ways to use the skin as a plow, axes, shovels, hoes, rakes, to provide supports for a shelter, a water trough, skis, and other basic technologies.  
It was like a starter kit for that ancient Minecraft game she used to play as a kid. How did they come up with this stuff?

Lopez began to formulate a plan in her mind. They needed defenses, and shelter.  
Retrieving an entrenching tool from the pod, she got up and looked around the edge of the clearing. There was a fairly large hollow that was just out of sight, but had a clear view of the field, and leaned against a small hill, meaning lots of snow. With well-honed instincts, she got to digging it even deeper, leveling out the bottom and the walls. A snow cave shelter would provide better protection against the elements, and she might be able to make a snow hut to provide warmth. The plates on the pod were designed for shoring up that sort of construction. The hollow also made a good firing pit.

 

After some digging, Lopez began flattening out an area for sleeping bags, making a mental note to get something for Henry to sleep in as well.  
The cynical part of her brain kicked in. Why was she bothering to keep him alive, and why was she struggling with what she’d done literally thousands of times?  
She needed him of course, painkillers were the only thing keeping her leg from giving out underneath her. That couldn’t be the only thing though.  
The sergeant knew there was a reason she was fraternizing with the enemy, a nagging feeling left from her dreams the night before. Taunting, just beyond her grasp.

Was she losing her nerve? No, impossible. Especially after her tour on Tribute, her last assignment before the Red Horse. Watching a civilian liner cleared for takeoff, packed full of civilians and wounded soldiers, only to be destroyed by a Covie AA battery. The comm lines demanding if rescue units should be sent, and command telling them there was no point.  
Fighting her way into a spaceport, where civilians were reported to have been captured by the brutes...seeing the bodies. Men, women, and children. Gunned down, beaten, tortured, you name it, the act was committed.

However, despite what they had done, what she’d seen Elites do paled in comparison with what she’d seen in the Mona Lisa’s laboratory footage. Elites, for all their efforts, for all the casualties they caused, were better by comparison.  
A hinge-head, fit and pissed, pushed into a large empty chamber. It stood up straight and dignified, probably expecting a firing squad. Only instead it faced one of the little pod things, “Infection form 45D” the documents said.  
The Elite paled when it saw the little organism, and did something completely unexpected. It turned back toward the door and began pounding on it, screaming in rage and fear, crying for help. Those fucking ONI spooks watched--they watched-- as the little piece of yellow shit latched onto the alien’s back, making him scream while it stuck a penetrator beneath the skin. The Elite scrabbled at the little pod as it burrowed into his body.  
Mahmoud’s stomach had given out when they were watching, but Lopez couldn’t look away, watching as her own people went below a level worse than the Covenant.  
When the newly infected zombie finally rose, test results flashed across the screen. Conclusion? “Unsatisfactory”.

Turns out there were still levels of cruelty to reach in a genocidal war. And humanity had descended far, far below them before the Covies did.

 

Shaking her head clear, Lopez recalled their neighbors. Uncontacted aliens. How would they react to two alien assholes falling out of the sky? Boomsticks were frightening enough, but judging by their technological level, they wouldn’t know what to think of the pod.  
According to the survival manual, which had sections on this sort of thing bizarrely enough, there were several reactions a roughly-Medieval-Age civilization would have. They would believe it to either be a god or a demon. Reaction to a god or angel or whatever would be worship, reaction to a demon would be hiding or trying to kill the suspect. Or they might just live their lives after asking the local clergy or equivalent authority figure for advice.

Worship wouldn’t be as much of a problem, but an attack would be. She needed to size them up, and see what types of weapons they had. A more in-depth observation was required than simple energy readings and motion sensors. Her drone was still in the air, the little things designed to soak up whatever energy they could so they were able to stay up for a while. It would take quite a lot to knock the thing out of the sky.

Pulling her tablet out of her armor, she sat down and connected to the drone. After a moment of “connecting…” a holographic image blinked to life.  
The previous night she’d only glanced at the landscape to see if there were any signs of advanced technology, but this time Lopez could take it in. The valley nearby was shaped a bit like a bowl with a tall brim, and a sure sign that the locals were a bunch of primitive screwheads was the fact that the village wasn’t built on the slopes, but smack-dab in the center of it and clustered tightly together. Any good-sized avalanche would wipe out the whole thing.  
The village was surrounded by a wooden barrier, though there were some structures outside of it. Most of the structures were made of wood, except the central one made of stone. Perhaps a church, or just a town hall building.  
There also seemed to be a structure built several kilometers away higher up on one of the taller mountains. The drone’s radar noted there was an old mining complex built into the same mountain.

Taking the drone in lower, it’s cameras showed lots of little figures moving, so snatches of data would be easy to compile a template. Lopez typed in the command to engage that program, and awaited the results.  
On its own, the drone began to move about, darting this way and that as it snatched up air samples, heart rates, body temperature, height, estimated mass, their speed, what they carried, and their general shape.

After several minutes, an alert flashed on screen. “SPECIES PREVIOUSLY DOCUMENTED--HOMO SAPIENS SAPIEN. AVAILABLE DATA INDICATES 95% MATCH. REQUIRES FURTHER INVESTIGATION.”

Lopez rubbed her eyes, and looked at the screen. The alert was still there.

As if of its own accord, her hand slipped to her side, and pulled out her sidearm. It was certainly possible that they could be humans. Thinking back, Lopez recalled stories of several groups of Amish settlers. People who didn’t want to fight, so they decided to hide. Some planet out of the way, with no technological signatures to attract Covenant attention.  
That would explain the lack of rescue, they must’ve just thought the pod was a falling star or something.  
But that still didn’t explain the complete lack of electronic signatures. UNSC regulations insisted that they at least keep communications relays, to keep contact in case of unforeseen circumstances such as natural disasters, or stranded soldiers such as herself. Scuttlebutt said the relays were also so that they could keep them as a reserve in case the UNSCDF ran short on warm bodies.

This left one other possibility, and explained the stupidity. “Oh, shit. Oh, jesus christ on a cracker.”

The neo-Luddites.

Some weren’t happy enough to be away from everyone else and live and let live. The neo-Luddites thought all technology was the root of all evil, and UNSC investigators found that they were intent on destroying all historical records when they made planetfall.

If there were no electronic signals, that meant they were the Luddites. And if they were the Luddites, any memory they would have if any of the UNSC would be their parents’ distorted lies. Which meant she couldn’t just shoot Henry and walk into town, because they might tear her apart. Even her underwear had the globe and eagle. 

Lopez smacked the side of her helmet, get it together, marine! You don’t know anything at this point!  
They could be the Amish, just one of their outlying settlements. The comms might be at a more central one. The Luddite concept would explain the stupidity though, the Amish knew enough to not build a village where it might be splattered by an avalanche. And the Amish didn’t go back to the Medieval Ages, they went back to the 19th, she thought.  
The bizarre little energy spikes went against that theory as well. She thought the Luddites wouldn't tolerate any tech. Were they using some to keep their ignorant peasant people in line? Nothing was adding up.

Standing up, she began digging at a more rapid pace. 

 

XXXXX

 

The days went by slowly, turning to weeks. Henry recovered to a reasonable point that he could take over digging, allowing Lopez to go and find food that wasn’t easily mistaken for gross sand wrapped in cellophane.  
She was nearly killed by some big ol spikey dipshit the TACPAD couldn’t identify while hunting. Looked like a giant velociraptor. Took half a mag from her MA5B and one shot from her M6D to finally penetrate its skull. It provided plenty of meat for the both of them, completely compatible with their immune systems. 

Henry seemed to know a bit about wilderness survival, more than her. All she knew was to cut off pieces to stick on the fire, but he managed to do everything necessary to save the rest of the meat like a professional.  
Communication was coming into existence, albeit a broken mixture of English, Spanish, and wort-ese, or whatever the hinge-head spoke.  
Concepts continued to be a problem in communicating. Well, except for the incident where Lopez tried to change her undershirt out of sight of Henry.  
He seemed to understand the concept of “get the fuck out of here you pervert” fairly well, though.

 

Khutan was surprised to learn Zhao was female. Humans were primitives, obviously socially-unenlightened, and it was strange to see that sort of intelligence. It was theorized by Covenant intelligence that the humans trained both genders equally, but kept their females behind to act as some sort of home guard. This revelation would help to explain many things, though the special operations officer considered it strange military intelligence could be so wrong. Was it propaganda?

 

Lopez continued her observation of the local folk, finding no signs of any sort of Amish traditions or equipment. Everything pointed to neo-luddites. One piece of evidence in particular, a strange group of people in robes. They’d perform some sort of parlor trick, shooting fire or ice from their hands, like wizards.   
They were engaged in conflict with some armor-plated fuckwits who looked like they’d stepped right out of a bad Excalibur remake. Big unnecessary shoulder pads on their armor, buckethead-type helmets, giant compensation-blades, and skirts that reached down to their ankles.  
The bucketheads seemed to all be part of the same order, judging by the symbols across their chests; a sword with lines like flame sprouting from the blade. Occasionally, they would produce their own parlor tricks, going to one knee and mumbling in prayer. Lopez had no clue what exactly it did, but whenever they did that, the wizards found themselves unable to throw fire or ice, and were overwhelmed.

At first glance, the wizards were the most likely candidates for the leaders of the colonists. It was a classic case seen on several neo-luddite colony worlds before they finally left human space; banning all technology but keeping some samples to maintain a hold on the populace. Though normally the colonists would know what the tech was, these people had been on this planet for a while. Her guess was the bosses concealed their equipment, and made sure the children didn’t know what it was, to make it much scarier. A flamethrower was pretty easy to hide under robes, as was a liquid-nitrogen thrower.

However, Lopez realized that the wizards seemed to be the underdogs in whatever conflict was going on. The bucketheads’ symbol was painted on most of the settlements she located, though the ones who had all the armor seemed to be few in number. When they did appear in local settlements, they were frequently visible openly abusing peasants.

In addition to the local politics, the sergeant observed the flora and fauna as well. Only a handful of plants and animals were terran, but that wasn’t surprising. Introducing new organisms to a colony’s ecosystem had proven disastrous in the past, dating back all the way to ancient Earth.  
The alien life forms and plants she catalogued with no small amount of boredom. There were some strange animals, those not from Earth, but the most interesting ones were the carnivorous beasts. Monsters that looked as though they were made of hellfire, ogres, slime creatures, and other mysterious creatures.   
Creatures like them were fairly common on some of the rougher Goldilocks planets. Reach itself, one of the biggest colonies and military bases in all of human space, was once home to massive beasts that could flip warthogs. What really attracted her attention though were the sapient life forms that weren't human.  
From what her sensors gathered, the neo-luddites deviated from previous behavior, and decided to dabble in genetic engineering of some kind.

There were creatures she could only describe as dwarves and elves living alongside the humans, and something she couldn't put a name on that were taller than Spartans. Sometimes they looked like really tall people, but a handful of specimens looked like minotaurs. What kind of Luddites were these?

 

XXXXX

 

The targeting reticule slowly moved onto the deer-like creature’s head, range shifting slightly every time it moved.  
“C’mon…” Lopez whispered, “Just tilt your head a bit…”

Her gear was designed to spoof electronic sensors and sniffers, tricking a deer-thing was child’s play. It was looking right toward her, disturbed by something, but it didn’t know what.

She fired, killing the deer instantly. It pitched over to the side, making what few critters that hadn’t been scared by the gunshot flee.

Placing her MA5B on her back and pulling out her combat knife, Lopez moved quickly and sliced open the thing’s midsection. Quickly, and efficiently, she yanked out its guts, and several bones.  
As she washed off her gloves in the stream it had been drinking from, she looked at the fresh meal again. It didn’t just look like a deer, it looked exactly like a deer.  
To be sure, she scanned it with her TACPAD.

After a moment, “SPECIES KNOWN: STATUS- ALREADY CATALOGUED” scrolled across her display, “SPECIES IS ALCES ALCES: COMMONLY KNOWN AS ‘TERRAN MOOSE’. NATIVE TO NORTH AMERICA, NORTHERN EUROPE, NORTHERN ASIA.”

“Well, at least I won't go hungry…” she muttered.

 

Abruptly, there were several pings from her motion tracker, relaying information from the drone high above her.  
Zooming out, she expected to find one big blue icon like last time.   
To her relief and anxiety, she found several dozen meters away a handful of yellow uniform(unknown) contacts. Green would be marines, blue for animals, red for Covenant life signs. Yellow meant unknown heartbeats. Either human or unknown aliens.  
They were moving at full sprint toward her position. They must’ve heard the gunshot.

Not willing to be caught out in the open, Lopez grabbed the deer’s legs and tried to lift it. She gritted her teeth, and fell to one knee in pain. She abandoned it, and ran as quickly as she could to a small hollow a distance away, with a clear view of the clearing.

Wincing as she landed on her bad leg again, Lopez crawled to the top of the hollow, and rubbed the side of her ballistics glasses to activate the zoom and highlight functions.

Five unknown contacts emerged from the edge of the clearing, spotting the dead deer. They paused, looking around suspiciously, and raised their meager weapons. Bows and swords. 

 

Concluding for the moment that they weren’t walking into a trap, the unknown contacts cautiously moved toward the deer.  
Judging by their attire, poorly-made 12th-century clothing, and weapons, they were the presumed amish or Luddite.  
Three female, two male. For UNSC personnel, that was far, far from odd. But for Luddites, it was...unusual.  
One stooped, looking at the dead deer, murmuring to the others.

The same figure reached into the carcass, there was a gasp of surprise in a language Lopez didn’t recognize. Her headset picked up the sound, and her computer swiftly began to look for anything in its database.

The investigator stood up, holding something to the light. Her helmet highlighted the object, obviously her M118 7.62mm bullet.

Pausing to scan the unknown contacts with her TACPAD, Lopez slowly began to move away through the undergrowth.  
They had to relocate the camp. If the hunters came running like that, that meant their normal hunting grounds were just over the ridge, and far too close to the pod.

 

The sergeant made it back to their small camp quickly, using a small dose of ibuprofen so she could run properly and ignore the pain. The pod was still in the center of the clearing, but it was now face-down, all the equipment was gone, and the parachutes were removed. Lopez didn't even slow down, running to the snow cave, its entrance facing the clearing. The edge of the firing pit was covered in recently placed mounds of dirt, and an entrenching tool was visible stuck in the earth. 

Lopez’s footsteps crunching in the snow brought out from the small opening in the dugout, making wort sounds and brandishing his cricket bat.

“Whoa, hinge-head!” She said, holding up her hands, “Just me!”

After a moment's hesitation, he lowered his bat. He tilted his head at her, a little confused. 

“Donde carne?” he inquired in rough Spanish.

“No carne,” she grimaced, “we need to get out of here. Some unknowns heading our way. Danger.” She pointed in the direction she came.

“Danger?”

“Si, danger. We need to __!” The last word was a modulated wort, that roughly translated to “move” or “relocate”. Easier for her to say than Henry to say anything like it. She ducked down into the dugout, and rolled up her sleeping bag. Anything artificial and UNSC issue was swept into her pack or her armor.

“Adonde?” Henry inquired, letting his bat fall to his side to hang by parachute cord and began packing up the cooking equipment. 

“No idea. That way? Just away. Shut up and keep packing, douchebag.”

A certain amount of equipment couldn't fit in her pack, but Lopez didn't even slow down. Parachute cord made the escape pod's hatch into a perfect sled, as it was designed.  
She’d cannibalized the pod for everything she could find. The emergency transmitter, salvaged computer parts, communications systems, power cells, wiring, controls, steel plating, metal tubes, a cupholder, anything she was able to rip out, as well as a handful of the tools she’d been able to make out of the thing’s titanium skin. 

Dragging anything left out of the cave into the firing pit, Lopez proceeded to smash the cave with the butt of her rifle and boots. Then she took the remaining M6, MA5, and Gersten’s MA5B, removed their firing pins when Henry wasn't looking, and put them on the sled.

Stringing them together, Lopez walked over to the life pod. It was a civilian pod, not rigged for self destruct, but she was a marine. Trained in making anything go boom.  
Taking a roll of cord that looked like barbed wire from her armor, she snapped off a spool and rigged it in and around the pod, in particular over the “DANGER: CONTAINS HYDROGEN PEROXIDE FUEL” labels.  
Seeing Henry was finished packing up, she waved him away and pulled out a detonator.

Once they were beyond the treeline, heading further up a ridge into the oncoming night, she pushed the button.

The M311 Detonation Cord went off with a whump, destroying the pod’s structural integrity once and for all; the hydrogen peroxide began to burn as well, torching the marvel of technology’s remaining parts. Within hours, the titanium hull would be all that remained, nothing of its circuits, wiring, controls, thrusters would survive. It would simply be a scorched metal curiosity, leaving nothing for the neo-luddites to identify.

 

XXXXX

 

Lopez puffed a breath as she activated another stimulant. There was a tingling sensation along her spine, and a rush of energy and awareness. There would be no sleep for her for at least another few hours.  
They were climbing along a mountain path, using Lopez’s drone to keep away from settlements and occasionally hiding in the underbrush to avoid a few lone hikers.

Traditional wisdom would say to avoid roads and footpaths at all costs, but crossing overland with the sled would leave an obvious trail. Roads were much easier to hide on, with all the traffic ruining footprints.  
Glancing back at Henry, she realized he had fallen a little behind. His jaws were all slack, and she could hear his heavy breathing.

“C’mon, split-lip! Keep up! Uphold the pack mule ancestry! I thought you were supposed to be tough!” Their jigsaw language was still growing, about half of her words were English.

He glared at her, “Fuck...you…” and added the sound for “vermin” in the Sangheili language. At least, that was what he called the first camp’s little furry mice-critters. And occasionally herself.  
He added something angrily. Judging by the few words she could understand, he was probably insulting her stamina and saying he was better, he just had more of a load to hold.

Lopez flipped him off, “Oh, it’s not so bad. I had to do this during basic training!”

Henry rolled his eyes, and flipped her the bird as well. Poorly, but still effective.

“Christ, how did you even survive that ship? You’re tuckered out after a little walk!”

He shook his bat at her, emitting a honk that said something to the effect of “can it”.

Lopez turned back and looked at the winding path on her map. It was a horizontal path from here on, going halfway around the mountain before sloping up again. There was an isolated cave to the east of the path where hopefully they wouldn’t be bothered.

For now, the path gave them a good look over the nearby settlement. Avalanche-ville, she called it. Recently, there’d been an unusual amount of heat signatures headed to the temple up the mountain. Something big was going on, and in fact, that was where her drone was currently hovering. It identified several different types of insignia and uniforms, belonging to both the wizards, Bucketheads, and several others she didn't recognize. 

What she wouldn't give for a SNARC(Self-Navigating Autonomous Reconnaissance Platform). Unlike a satellite system that could only take pictures, SNARCs were designed for in-depth recon. Bigger than the old counter-insurgency ARGUS drones they replaced, SNARCs were dedicated for conventional warfare. They were about the size of a human being; fast, durable, could stay up for a long time, and could hover at low altitudes. They were able to deploy smaller “digit” spying bugs hardly bigger than a housefly, and use them to listen in on conversations, or tap into hardened landline communications. They could even launch Lancet micro-missiles to destroy soft targets.

Needless to say, a civilian drone made for surveying land and not much else left much to be desired.

The Bucketheads still had a significant presence in the valley, and in fact had only increased as time went on. Gee, it was almost as if they didn't trust the wizards.

 

To Lopez's surprise, Henry hadn't gone for the firearms he was dragging at all. She assumed it wasn't out of the goodness of his heart, he probably just noticed the missing firing pins.  
Though he hadn't even gone for the bolo, hatchet, saw, or pick she'd somehow pulled out of the pod’s skin.   
How does this stuff stay intact if it's gone through re-entry? Shouldn't it be burned?

She wasn't paid to think, though. She was just glad the items were there.

 

About an hour later, they reached the cave. It was broad daylight, but the cave was pitch black.  
Confusingly, Henry stopped moving, and sniffed the air. He dropped the parachute cord tow line and readied his cricket bat. He pointed rapidly to Lopez's rifle, then into the cave.  
“What's the matter with you? Afraid of the dark? The big bad alien bastard needs a night light?”

Laughing, Lopez pulled a flare from her vest, and popped off the tip. The red light began to burn, and she hurled it into the depths of the cave, simultaneously flicking on her flashlight.  
The red flare bounced across the cave floor, coming to a stop after bumping into something. A creature's leg in fact. Dimly, large shapes could be seen scuttling away, and there was a chittering noise like critters moving more than two legs. A lot of critters, and many more legs.

“...Big bad alien did need a nightlight!” Lopez whispered, a shiver crawling up her spine.  
Switching from “safe” to “burst”, Lopez boldly stepped into the cave, and scanned for tangos. Thermal helped to distinguish…

“Holy shit!” she swept a burst across the cave, stumbling backward in surprise and fumbling for a grenade.  
She fell back into Henry's massive bulk, and he grabbed her wrist when she withdrew a frag.  
She snarled, and began to struggle, thinking he'd finally taken his chance. Instead, he only pushed her grenade down, and held out the bolo knife.  
“No grenade. No rifle. Bad meat. Bolo, crooked bat. Good meat.”

Lopez screwed up her face, but puffed a breath of air. “Fine, split-lip, if only to save ammo for you later.”

He flipped her off again, and grabbed the hatchet from their pile of equipment.

She took the bolo and slung her rifle across her back. “Fucking spiders…” least they're not those little infection pods…

Turning on her helmet lamps, Lopez stepped back into the cave.

Splat! Henry smashed one of the things with his bat, and Lopez cut some more bold ones apart.

They squealed like no spider should, spewing blood and guts, and some primitive instinct inside the sergeant kept telling her to run. Run from the giant bugs.

As they moved further inward, occasionally throwing the flare further in, they encountered a sticky silver material, hung everywhere and containing the spiders’ other victims. It was no match for the carbon steel of her blades, though. Neither were most of the spiders.

The bugs attempted to tackle both of them numerous times, or throw webbing at their heads, but the beasts apparently weren't used to fighting prey that took cover and ducked a lot.

The cave system wasn't that big, but they would need to clear it out if they intended to use it as a refuge. At last, they came across what was likely the central breeding chamber. Spider resistance was higher than ever.

The two combatants took either side of the doorway, and Lopez stuck her rifle inside. A window appeared in the corner of her HUD, the view from the camera mounted to her rifle. It offered a view of the interior. A very disturbing view in fact.  
“Henry, you got a rocket launcher on you?”

He just looked at her.

“Then give me a hand with this. Let's just collapse the tunnel. They won't get out anytime soon.”

Henry made as if to go inside, but Lopez pushed him back, “sharkie, don't. I'm ordering you.”

He cocked his head in confusion, but reluctantly followed, helping to tape another spool of detonation cord to a load-bearing section of tunnel.

Jogging back to an intersection, Lopez had Henry plug his ears, and set off the cord. The ceiling collapsed perfectly, burying any access to further in.  
“Okay. Spiders gone. That's lunch then!”

Henry spared one last look at the collapsed tunnel, wondering what could have scared Lopez that badly. There was a skittering sound on the other side. Rocks, just rocks. It's still settling.  
At least, that was what he told himself. It sounded just like the infection forms on the human ship when they'd been scraping at the bulkheads.   
He turned and quickly ran back up the tunnel.

 

Back at the entrance of the cave, Lopez put some finishing touches on the wood pile, and scraped at a block of magnesium.  
Instantly, a small flame appeared, eating greedily at the fuel.

Once she ensured it would burn, Lopez sat down by the sled, and began unpacking a few items. MRE, tablet, and the repair kit for an MA5B.

Placing the tablet beside her and folding it into laptop configuration, she moved to a music tab. Given the previous danger of the cave, she figured no one would try to come near for a long time. No one would hear it.  
As the soothing classical music began to play, the sergeant grabbed her MRE, stuck her canteen into it, and squeezed a little bit of water out.  
Setting that aside for a while, Lopez began to field-strip the other weapons, in particular, Gersten's MA5B. Finally, she could clear the gunk out of it, mostly blood belonging to at least four different species.

Henry walked in from a final inspection of the cave, and took a clear plastic container from the sled. Some meat he’d prepared from the big velociraptor thing was inside, and he clearly preferred that to the MREs.

 

For a long time, they simply sat opposite one another as they’d been doing most nights, avoiding eye contact.  
Tonight was a bit different. When Lopez picked up her heated MRE, she noticed he was staring at the tablet.  
His hoof was tapping slowly on the stone floor, in time to the music.

“You...you like this stuff?” Lopez inquired.

He glanced at her for a moment, and shrugged.

“You.” she pointed to him, then gestured at the tablet, “you like?”

He seemed to get it eventually, and nodded.

That only served to worsen Lopez’s mood, “Are you feeling alright? Clearly there’s something wrong with you, cuz you’re not scraping my tablet off your hoof!”

He seemed surprised at the hostility in her voice, leaning back a bit.

“Harvest was nice too, but I wouldn’t know! You destroyed it while I was in grade school! What the fuck is wrong with you sons of bitches?! You hate everything about us except our music!? What did we ever do to you?!”

He continued to stare blankly at her.

“Goddamn you! Why do I even try talking to you, you stupid fucking...fuckwhistle! How the hell did Benti even stand you!?”

The most random thought popped into her head. Reaching into a breast pocket, she withdrew five sets of dog tags, not even bothering to hide them from him. five, out of seventeen men and women. Rabbit, Ayad, Mahmoud, Singh, and Percy.

 

Something finally broke in that cement mental barrier, and Lopez squeezed her eyes shut, tears leeching out as she slumped forward, and clutched the tags tightly.  
“Shit...aw, shit...I didn’t even get Benti’s tags...I owed that much to her. I couldn’t get a couple shitty pieces of metal out of that deathtrap!”

 

Unbeknownst to her, Khutan was studying the curious metal plates attached to metal cords. Something in a human language was printed on them, and he recalled seeing similar ones on several human soldiers over the years. Were they…? Judging by Zhao’s reaction, they were. Identification tags.

He felt inside his snowsuit, searching for something he’d forgotten about until now.

While he’d been pointing the primitive ballistic weapon at the traitor, “Clarence” back on the ship, the healer had her attention elsewhere. Looking down the hallway, and back to the traitor, she began fiddling at something around her neck.  
He hadn’t noticed it when she’d pushed off him, only finding out about it when he had to pull bits of material embedded in his leg, after getting thrown around the escape pod and landing on them.

Khutan stepped over to the close-to-but-still-definitely-not-near-the-verge-of-crying Zhao, and held out two pairs of battered and chipped metal plates by the cords attached to them. A little bit of purple blood was on each of the nicks made into them.

 

She looked up, a curse on her lips until she saw the tags. Snatching them out of his hand, her eyes widened.  
Gersten and Benti’s tags. Stained with alligator blood, but their tags nonetheless. Her kids.

Lopez looked between them, Henry, and back again. The only sound was the crackling fire and the jingling of the chains.  
She shook her head, and balled them up, forcing them back into her pocket.

“I’ll take the first watch, Henry. Go and get some sleep or whatever it is you do.”

 

XXXXX

 

The ground fluttered. Lopez jumped out of her sleeping bag sidearm raised and half asleep.  
“Plasma mortars! We’re under fire!” she garbled out, before she realized where she was.

The ground was still trembling slightly, a continuous rumble that didn’t feel like it was fading.

The sergeant grabbed her helmet, “Earthquake!” she yelled in her best parade ground voice, “Wake the hell up, hinge-head! Let’s get outside!”

Checking her HUD, she tried to bring up the drone’s seismograph. Surprisingly, there was only a bright red “NO SIGNAL” alert.  
“Dammit…” she growled, but ignored it and moved outside.

Henry was outside as well, staring at something in the distance and struggling with a set of binoculars recovered from the pod.  
Wordlessly, Lopez snatched them out of his hands and peered through.

“Christ on a cracker.” the valley below was in chaos. A mushroom cloud was rising over where the temple had once been. The temple base was obscured in the bottom of the cloud, and figures could be seen scattered across the mountainside, some moving, others not. The Bucketheads were on the move, in the village, bells ringing loud enough to be heard from this high up, and spreading out their forces. Hundreds of people running about, going to various tasks as they tried to respond to...whatever it was.

Then, there was what was in the sky. Henry and Lopez let their jaws go slack. A massive tear in the sky, a large ring with a bright white inner center and a vague cloudy perimeter.

Lopez’s first instinct. She activated her TACPAD, broadcasting on all channels, “This is Sergeant Lopez of the UNSC Marine Corps to unidentified starship! Pull up! You’re right above a planet’s surface! Pull up!”

The tear expanded further, shimmering and releasing massive amounts of energy. “Unidentified ship! Respond! Hello? Do you copy?!”

Only static answered her hails. As if it wasn’t weird enough to see a slipspace rupture in atmosphere, this one was...green.  
“What the hell is going on around here?”

Minutes passed, and still no sign of a starship. And no sign of it closing either. While that meant no immediate danger(the danger of opening a portal in atmosphere was in the closing, not the opening), who knew what kind of radiation was emitting.

She rebooted the connection to the drone, but still got nothing. The sergeant tried rewinding the footage to just before she lost signal.  
The drone had been orbiting the temple, and witnessed the explosion. It rippled outwards from deep within the structure. A shimmer in the air sprang away from the center in a sphere, and a streak of light shot straight up from the origin point. Then the shimmering bubble passed through the drone, and the signal was lost.  
“Well. That’s it for that drone.”

 

Henry and Lopez, with no small amount of charades, guessed at what had happened. Whatever it was, it wasn’t anything they knew of.   
It might have been a strike from within slipspace. There were many pieces of equipment designed to be released into and drop out of slipspace to avoid putting the starship in danger. The lack of anything emerging could also have been some sort of malfunction.  
Yet none of the possibilities explained why the portal was open for so long. Slipspace portals weren’t supposed to stay open this long.

 

One possibility did explain it, though. Back when slipspace had first been discovered, there'd been talk of creating portals for people, not just starships. A whole interplanetary network of slipspace gates was envisioned. Planetary generators had a much greater power output after all, and could be much bigger.   
The plans never came to fruition, but evidently whoever created this portal had been able to figure out a way around the problems.

So in all likelihood, there was a technologically-advanced race about to attack this virtually-defenseless planet. Luddite tricks wouldn’t stand up to bullets or plasma fire.

There wasn’t much they could see from where they were. Lopez didn’t want to risk her second drone flying too close, and nothing she had was designed for in-depth slipspace analysis.  
To get answers, they had to head further down the mountain to try and get a better idea of what happened to the temple.

Unfortunately, the bucketheads were fanning out across the countryside, putting them at great risk of detection.  
Henry volunteered to keep them distracted, however. He even allowed her to place an IFF tag on him so she wouldn’t shoot him, and give her plenty of time to gather the required data.

 

Within hours of the anomaly’s appearance, Lopez was kilometers down the hill, prone on a small overlook that gave a much clearer view of the temple. Again, she cursed her lack of proper equipment.

She was now able to see a distinct beam connecting the portal to the ground. It looked as though her assessment of troop deployment was correct. It must have been some sort of space elevator, albeit not a conventional one. She’d seen the grav-lifts Covenant ships used to deploy their troops; the beam was likely something similar. 

What I wouldn’t give for some STARS right about now. Stealth Tactical Aerial Reconnaissance Satellites would have everything she would need. She had equipment for monitoring orbital conditions, but nothing too specific.   
Who the hell’s up there?

Eying her motion tracker, a handful of red dots kept coming on and off the grid. 

...And maybe a squad to help deal with those jackasses. Then again, so long as I’m dreaming, I’ll wish for a pony. 

The sergeant glanced at her motion tracker again, and cursed. The contacts were now surrounding Henry. Their luck was running out.   
Now a dozen icons were headed her way.

Two red dots winked out near the purple dot, so he was putting up a fight, but she had to focus on herself.  
Lopez got up on her haunches, and unlimbered her MA5B. It was like meeting an old friend once again, the smell of brass as she pulled a magazine out and slammed it home, the sound of the bolt locking into place and the feel of the trigger against her glove.

Crouching low, she headed to cover behind a nearby boulder. Bracing her rifle against the boulder, she waited.

Roughly twelve locals emerged from the tree line. They looked like something from a renaissance fair, with their massive plate armor, bucket-head helmets, those stupid wide swords, and their tunic-dress-things they wore to protect their armor from sun.

They glanced around, taking a little too long to notice her behind cover. They seemed a little surprised for a moment.  
Someone that looked like the leader stepped forward. 

“Mage!” he cried, brandishing his sword and suffering from the ancient affliction known as testosterone poisoning, “In the name of the Templar Order, surrender, and face your crimes! You have no chance, your magic will not work. Give up peacefully.”

 

His voice sounded odd. Unsurprisingly, it gave off those tell-tale tics indicative of language translated by her neural link rather than speaking in a language she knew. No matter what the techs did, the translated speech was always off in one way or another. Lopez noticed with some satisfaction that despite their gear, all the locals were smaller than her in height. Strange, but satisfying.

 

Several of the enemies fell to one knee, putting both hands out on their swords and bowing their heads muttering some sort of prayer. To her mild surprise, around each one snow was buffeted, debris thrown in the air by some unseen force, and there was a mild lightshow.  
Some parlor trick.

Lopez smirked, and flicked the safety off her rifle. Immediately, she swept the weapon in a nice neat arc across the line of enemies, the familiar pounding of 7.62mm rounds and the concussion as they accelerated to mach 2.5 was a sweet song in her ears. It helped her to ignore the screams.

The adrenaline pumping, she sprinted over the corpses, toward her comrade. The battlefield took over. Nothing mattered anymore. Not UNSC, not Covenant, not human, not hinge-head, all that mattered was a comrade was in danger. And they didn’t call her “Mama Lopez” for nothing.

Switching to burst fire, Lopez fired at any of the bucketheads she saw as she sprinted through the woods, burning through one magazine and swapping to her sidearm. The purple dot on her HUD was crawling closer and closer, as the red dots winked out around her. He wasn’t moving anymore, the reds were clustered around him.

Along the path she took, a bucket-head stepped out from behind a tree. Smarter than the others, he realized he shouldn't try running at her over a distance. Lopez didn’t even slow down, lifting a knee to smash a VZG7 Combat Boot right into his groin, the iron crotch plate crumpling under the impact as she bowled the man over.

He collapsed backwards, moaning and clutching the family jewels, while she jumped over him and found her friend, in a clearing.

Beaten, bruised, Henry was held down by no less than ten of the locals. Several were scattered around on the ground in various states of injury. His cricket bat was embedded in the eye-slit of a bucket-head on the ground, the man’s friend fruitlessly trying to pull it back out. Another group emerged from the treeline, wielding crossbows and regular bows, all aimed at her.

One of the bucket-heads holding Henry down had a knife at his throat, and their helmet was partly smashed. They yanked it off, revealing to Lopez’s surprise, a woman underneath.

“Surrender mage, or we kill your friend!” she cried.

Lopez snarled, but for a brief moment lifted her weapons to throw them to the ground. Her rational sense kicked in again.  
Why was she going to so much trouble to save this bastard?

Smacking the side of her helmet, Get it together, marine! Lopez took her sidearm in both hands, and activated the zoom function in her ballistic glasses.  
It was an old system designed in answer to a simple question that had been struggled with for years. How did one deal with a gun to the hostage’s head?  
The answer was provided by the targeting systems used in the marines’ HUDs, that was able to calculate where exactly to shoot the hostage-taker in order to disable their hand. Either hitting the limb itself, or the weapon.  
The lead bucket-head’s fist jumped to a massive size in her vision, the targeting reticule unable to find a point on the weapon itself. Her fist was angled toward the sergeant, her entire forearm behind it.

Lopez fired. The M225 round tearing into the “templar’s” middle knuckle, and its high-explosive payload detonated in the center of her ulna and radial bone. Her gauntlet shifted slightly, blood and meat spewing from either end, pieces of metal and bone shot out through her elbow. The templar shrieked in pain, cradling the hunk of meat once known as her arm, and was headbutted by Henry.

 

The sergeant was abruptly tackled from behind, her M6D falling out of her grasp. Nothing had registered on her motion tracker, leaving only the wounded man behind her as the culprit. His strength wasn’t the problem, the weight of his armor was.  
With a roar, she shook him off, but it was too late. The others were upon her.

They didn’t use their swords, they seemed intent on capturing her judging by their pummeling. Despite the strength of her armor, there were an awful lot of their fists, and it hurt.

She wasn’t going to let it be fair, at least. Her combat knife lopped off several fingers, chunks of hands, stabbed several, and in one particular case cut through one Templar’s nose.

It was all for naught, unfortunately. They soon had her pinned, and took her weapons.

As one sat on her back and tied her hands behind her back, Lopez heard them say something about “Haven”, “Most Holy”, and “pay for what they’ve done”.

They hauled her to her feet, swearing all the way, and began dragging her away. Six were required to hold her still. To her immense relief, Henry was being brought along as well, though with far more restraints and guards.

Now however, they faced the obvious question. What next?


	3. Chapter 3

Lopez and Henry sat next to each other in the middle of a large dark chamber, shackled and missing their weapons and packs They still had most of their clothes and armor, Lopez could say that much about their captors, though her helmet was gone.  
Around them were several Bucketheads, their swords out and maintaining a healthy distance from their captives. One idiot had tried poking at Henry's jaws, curious about the four mandibles. He was presumably in an infirmary somewhere about to suffer from gangrene on a now two-finger hand; these primitives didn't look like the type to clean anything.

They hadn't been interrogated yet, but it seemed they might have had bigger problems.  
According to Lopez's TACPAD, there was a significant movement of troops from the valley to the destroyed temple, where more heat signatures were detected. Not human, but not Covenant either. They seemed to be coming from the portal itself.   
Her guess was right on the money. The enemy was deploying soldiers through the portal. 

And they were on their way here.

Lopez shifted slightly, her chains clinking and making the guards nervous.  
“I'm just getting comfortable, you idiots,” she growled, “can't a marine scratch an itch every once in awhile?”

Some of them looked at each other, “What did she say?”

“Some barbaric babble, I suppose,” Another dismissed, “She looks like she's from the south. They're all savages and cannibals and apostates down there. I bet she hasn't even heard of the Maker!”  
Her neural implant was still translating. She could understand them, but they still couldn’t understand her. This would be a long day...

 

Distantly, there was the sound of a door opening. They had plenty of time to watch the six figures approaching them from the end of the rather long interrogation chamber.

Three were ahead of the others. Two, some typical guards, were carrying the third between them. He was one of the elves, and not exactly unique. He had a mullet-like hairstyle, and silver tattoos across his face in a vague tree shape. He a scar over his left eye, and wearing basic adventuring gear.  
He was shackled like Henry and Lopez were, but he was limp and wasn’t struggling. 

The three behind them obviously weren’t prisoners. One was a woman in her 30s, with jet-black hair, a hardened face, and wearing a scowl as she looked at the passed-out elf. She was dressed in purple heavy armor, a depiction of the sun with an eye in the center across her chest, and a sword hung at her side.  
The second was also a woman. It was hard to see in the gloom and through her hood, but she seemed roughly the same age as the first, maybe a bit younger, and with a less harsh face. Not much to be said about her equipment. She seemed a scholarly bookworm type, reminding Lopez of Benti for some reason.  
Surprisingly, the third was another elf. Instead of armor like the others, he was dressed in more plain clothing, a woolen sweater and a pair of leggings. For some bizarre reason he had no hat, no gloves...and--Lopez’s jaw dropped--no shoes. Across his back was a staff or walking stick, the ones the local magicians used in their light shows. He had no hair at all, in fact the torchlight reflected off his head.

The passed-out elf was thrown in a pile beside Lopez, who shifted over as much as she could. Baldy looked at both her and Henry with a strange expression, before moving over to the other elf, propping him up.  
He turned over the hand of the unconscious elf, and examined a strange glowing white line across his palm.

Before Lopez could see much more, the hardened woman, likely the soldier among them, stepped forward.  
“Why?” she stated simply, beginning to pace around the prisoners, “Why launch such an attack? This was the only chance for peace you fools, for your people as well as mine. Why would you launch such an attack? A sloppy, uncoordinated attack, but an attack nonetheless.”

“What attack?” Lopez inquired, knowing she couldn’t be understood, “You mean that freaking slipspace rupture outside your fucking window? Wake up, you stupid bunch of luddite primitives!”  
She tried to get to her feet, “Do you have any idea what kind of radiation we’re soaking up? I mean I don’t, but--”

One of the guards tried to reach up and force her back down, but couldn’t get quite enough leverage to pull, so he just hit her at the knee joint with the pommel of his sword. She knelt back down.

The leader looked at Lopez, a little puzzled, then glanced around at her companions. “Does anyone know what she was saying?”

The scholar looked puzzled, “That’s not any tongue I have ever heard of.”

“I have not encountered it either.” said Baldy.

The leader rolled her eyes, and crouched in front of Lopez, “Do you speak common? Comm-on?”

Lopez shook her head.

The leader tilted her head for a moment. She snarled and grabbed the sergeant by the collar, “I knew it, you lying apostate! What are you planning next? Who ordered this? Tell me!”

“She might just be shaking her head no to show that she doesn’t understand…” the bookworm pointed out.  
The leader shook her head, “No, she understands me, alright. And she will tell me what we need to know.”

The leader raised a fist to strike Lopez, and for a moment, Lopez stared at the hand. Then the marine laughed.

That angered the leader even more, and she let the fist fly. Lopez winced, but looked back with a smirk, “Who taught you how to punch, your grandmother?” Another punch, “You’d better just fucking kill me. This is the best you can do you dumbass--” a third hit, “--primitives? I’ve seen better interrogation techniques on saturday morning cartoons!”

The UNSC knew the way to get information out of a prisoner was not physical abuse...or at least, that was what the Marines were taught. ONI went by their own rules, and judging by how stupid they’d been on the Mona Lisa, using barbaric and useless methods of interrogation seemed like something they’d do. They seemed to get their kicks from seeing how many war crimes they could commit in one sitting.

 

“I don’t know if that is a very effective method of obtaining information,” Baldy interrupted, “She is clearly trained for this sort of thing.”

“How do you know, Solas?” the leader snarled, and hit Lopez again.

Lopez spat a bunch of blood onto the center of the eye on the leader’s armor, “Maybe see if your daddy’ll lend you a roll of nickels!”

Baldy--or Solas-- crossed his arms, “I may not know what she is saying, but I can understand tone. She is clearly mocking you, and the fact that she keeps laughing...Really, what other conclusion can there be?”

The scholar nodded, “I believe he is onto something. She seems like the sort trained to resist interrogation.”

Lopez looked at the scholar with an exaggerated expression, “Thank you, now we got someone with some fucking brains!”

“And now she is sounding exasperated. I hardly think she can tell us much anyway, she clearly doesn’t speak common.” Solas said.

“No, she understands it!” the leader insisted. “She simply refuses to speak it!”

“Understanding and speaking are not necessarily the same thing.” Solas pointed out. 

The leader angrily pushed Lopez back, “What of this one, then?” She kicked Henry’s hoof, “Qunari. Do you speak Common?”  
He looked up at her, scowling. He didn’t actually need to tilt his head that much, only shifting his eyes up to glare. The elite remained silent.

“What the hell’s a Qunari?” Lopez demanded, and felt a light impact on her shoulder pad, like a pat on the back.  
Lopez turned back to see a dumbfounded guard, looking between her and his sword pommel. Had he hit her?

“How do you know she understands it?” the bookworm asked, “She might be shaking her head in response to your question, but might also be stating that she doesn’t know what you’re saying.”

“Trust me, I can tell,” the leader said, “Her responses have all been specific to what was asked. I have a man in the infirmary now, with severe damage to his valuables. According to witnesses, he was making some sort of lewd comment when she committed the act. Tell me, if you did not know what that guard had been saying, would you have done such a thing? No, one might have simply punched him. This was very specific. Clearly a response to an identified comment.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Lopez rolled her eyes.

“I would guess that was a derisive comment.” Solas observed.

 

“There, you see?” the leader barked, pointing, “A response to my words!”

“Even so, she clearly is unwilling to speak. What good will there be in continued interrogation?” the bookworm pointed out.

“It has a chance of improving my mood.” the leader growled, and clocked Lopez again, who grinned through fire-engine red teeth.

“Cassandra, this can wait. We must tend to our defenses now. They can wait, the Breach cannot.”

With one final punch, the leader, Cassandra, released the sergeant and stormed away.

 

Lopez fell back, spitting out blood and luckily no teeth. Noting the elf guy still unconscious, she subtly flipped open a panel on her armor, and withdrew her small tricorder. So named for an ancient medical device, the tricorder was a first aid kit for the average grunt, carrying an AED, any meds that weren’t built into her armor, a scanner, bandages, the works.  
Taking out the “saltshaker”, the medical probe, she scanned the prone man’s vitals, to make sure there wasn’t a concussion or anything else threatening his life. Who knew? Maybe he knew how to escape.

The computer first did a quick rundown of his vitals. A cursory scan determined he was healthy, but in a sedated state. However, that was for normal humans. She didn’t know how much these gene-modded guys deviated. In fact, this was the first time she could get a medical scan of one of these locals. He could be in a coma for all she knew.

“Wait a minute…” 

The computer kept scanning deeper. The display read back several anomalies as it analyzed. Certain statistics didn’t fit. There was an extra lobe here, a missing vein there, those ears...this went far beyond genetic modification. At least any sort detectable by the tricorder.  
The alterations went far beyond simple gene mods, they went down extremely far.

On a hunch, Lopez put the salt shaker to his bare skin, giving the device a DNA sample. 

The tricorder finally finished its analysis. She inhaled sharply. 

The display printed, “UNKNOWN LIFEFORM DETECTED--REPORT TO UEG FIRST CONTACT DIVISION”.

The elves weren’t human. They were alien life forms.

Lopez instinctively scooched back, a quarter of a century of xenophobia running through her mind.  
Yet at the same time, four centuries worth of a post-racial intolerance society hammered at those instincts.  
The Covenant races, aside from being bipedal and having two eyes, typically did not look humanoid. It made killing them a little easier.  
These guys on the other hand were very humanoid. And they didn’t have energy weapons.

She bumped into Henry as she scooched back, who shoved at her. Lopez shoved back, and settled in between the two aliens.

 

A reminder of the aliens who were trying to wipe them out made the hatred fade somewhat.  
The sergeant glanced at the man lying at her side. She was completely at a loss with how to deal with this situation. She’d made contact with a species that didn’t want to wipe out humanity. She had no idea what his people were like. She had no idea who it was killing who out there.

Yet the locals didn’t seem surprised at anything about this guy. The guards seemed disinterested, more fascinated with her and Henry. There was that one bald guy--Solas, that was his name-- who stood with the other assholes, not feared and certainly not the boss. She’d seen the elves working side-by-side with the humans, civilians like any others. They lived alongside one another, they were neighbors! They were aliens, not genetically-modified humans, living alongside normal people!  
To the point that this guy was in jail along with her, treated like any other prisoner.

Lopez slumped, looking between the two aliens. She rubbed her face, coming to a conclusion in her mind.

“Great, first aliens we find who aren’t overly hostile and they’re a bunch of primates.”

Humanoids had to stick together, right?

 

Her tricorder abruptly flashed. His vitals just jumped. The medical system couldn’t tell much about what this guy was like when he was perfectly healthy, but this was something it could tell for certain that shouldn’t be there.

Lopez checked his pulse, his respiration, his temperature, everything seemed fine…

She took another look at the tricorder. The anomaly was located on his left hand.

Opening his palm, she found it was the cut that Solas guy had been observing. It was a jagged series of slashes, running diagonally the length of his palm. It didn’t seem to be very deep, but that wasn’t the problem.  
She didn’t exactly need a tricorder to tell her what the problem was. It was glowing bright green.   
As the sergeant studied it, the cut suddenly flashed brightly. Henry twitched a little, and looked over with confusion.

“The hell…?!” Lopez muttered, her tricorder registered his vitals jumping again.

The scanner couldn’t tell her what was wrong with him, only that something was wrong. There was something fishy going on, and she wasn’t entirely sure it was her tricorder.

 

Suddenly it all made sense. He was one of the local wizards. This was probably one of the parlor tricks she’d seen. Yet what was making it?  
There were no implants, no artificial mechanisms, no power source, nothing.

Not entirely impossible, she reasoned, and her heart sank. The luddites were behind this.  
Some sort of biological mechanism her systems couldn’t pick up could have been engineered into them, enabling them to seemingly create fire and ice from nothing.  
As to the power source, that was actually rather simple. The generators for the Big Sticks, or Orbital Defense Platforms, that protected some of the major UNSC colonies transmitted power wirelessly from the ground, allowing the stations to be built more economically. Perhaps there was a massive generator somewhere below this planet’s surface for a similar effect on the genes in these individuals, powering these mysterious mechanisms.

She cursed. The luddites, those hypocritical monsters. They had left UNSC space, and found an idyllic spot, so far away no one even knew about it. A strategic asset that could have saved humanity. That was bad enough, but the planet was already occupied. Before they threw their tech away, they started modifying their own people to scare the locals.   
And they had modified the locals too. They played god with an innocent species who they could have made friends with.

It was the Mona Lisa all over again.

 

XXXXX

 

Solas emerged from the prison chambers to one of the adjoining corridors, looking for the closest armory. Prisoner belongings were kept in it, including those of the mysterious mercenaries.  
That was who they were thought to be at least. Foreign mages hired by the rebel mages to help out the third captive. After all, they spoke in a language no one had even heard before, and their attire and equipment were highly unusual.

But Solas knew for certain that was not the case. At least, not entirely. The elf was a mage, certainly, but the others? They were about as far from mages as a human and whatever that other life form was could be. And few realized their equipment was beyond anything anyone could manufacture.

At least what no one could make now.

Where did they come from?

Nonchalantly, he stepped through the armor over to the shelf containing their equipment. Several backpacks, a helmet of unknown materials, several weapons, and two curious devices made of completely unknown materials.  
They were reported to spew fire and death, and Solas could believe it. They were obviously weapons of some kind.  
The craftsmanship was impeccable. Both had a long tube that ran down their center, spiral grooves running along the inside as far as he could see.

Solas lifted the largest weapon, obviously more deadly. He found it surprisingly light, but still having some heft to it. It was long, with a vertical grip on one end, with a guard like that of a sword’s knuckle-bow protecting the trigger. He avoided touching that.  
Just above the trigger was a small switch, labeled with letters that looked vaguely in the female mercenary’s language.  
Unusually, the knuckle-bow seemed to be part of the grip. A horizontal handle along the bottom of the other end, parallel with a second tube underneath the main hollow one. This one only had a cavity, it wasn’t hollow. It was like a small silver bowl, with a tiny cone at the center.  
On the end close to the trigger was a shoulder brace of some kind, perpendicular to which the dorsal side of the weapon ran. It stopped at a trapezoid shaped protrusion, just above the hollow tube.   
He arched an eyebrow. There was a curious panel set at an angle into the short side of the trapezoid facing the operator. It was a soft firm material, with a black sheen to it darker than the rest of the weapon.

Above the trigger and switch, he found a small lever along the left side, set into a groove. He touched it,.  
Solas considered leaving it be, but assumed that it would be least-likely to be involved with the weapon’s lethal operations.  
Even so, he turned the lethal end toward a wall, and then reached for the lever. He found it resistant, but not immobile. He pulled it back further, and a single bronze-colored cylinder went flying out.  
Quickly catching it before it could hit the ground, Solas peered at the small object. It was conical, pointed at one end, with the last 1/3rd of the point segmented from the rest of the object. On the flat end there was a groove set just inward of the rim. The flat side itself was a torus, with the center made of a material different from the rest of the cylinder. He still couldn’t identify it. Nor could Solas read the letters carved with incredible precision into the torus around the center.  
He quickly placed the object in the mercenary's backpack.

The second weapon was short, though it was fairly tall. There was only one handle, and a more conventional knuckle-bow. The grip was a strange material, tough yet almost gelatinous, fitting to the user’s hand. He quickly deduced it was of similar construction to it's larger fellow, though there were several curious differences. The tube was wider than that of the larger device, and the device's height was greater than that of the length.  
They resembled descriptions of Qunari secret weapons, but were far greater in power and quality than anything those stories spoke of.

 

Along with the odd weapons were several recognizable ones, yet of a new design.

There was an odd extremely short sword, several knives, and a thick wooden bat.

Carefully, Solas picked up the short sword. It was very light, yet felt quite strong, extremely high-quality metal. Its handle was again made of that squishy material, with grooves set into the stuff to prevent slippage. The blade was flat on one edge, curved on one side, and was balanced to favor slashing, with a thrusting capability as well.  
It appeared to be equally at home cutting foliage and flesh alike.  
The knife was unconventional as well. The tip was clearly made for stabbing, but it could also slice with the edge of the front end, and there was a third section made for…he couldn’t tell what, but they looked like nasty teeth.

Taking the bat down, he hefted it, and was again intrigued. The wood was strange, light and tough. It was some sort of willow, but there was something strange about it. Some sort of oil was soaked into the very fibers of the wood, and it was much lighter than it should have been. It was also still embedded in the visor of a Templar’s helmet.

When he put the bat back, he picked up the helmet. Much lighter than anything he’d ever seen, but felt like it was packed tight full of something extremely powerful, physical protection...and something more.  
It was a strange-looking helmet. The face was fully exposed except for a set of odd colored spectacles, leaving the wearer open to any attack by a sword. There was little neck protection, it was far too high up to provide the correct amount...from swords at least. Perhaps the soldier's collar provided the rest of the protection. It was strange, considering how thick and strong the helmet felt, why did it feel so strong but be neglecting in other very important areas?  
Either the engineers were fools, or fought a very different kind of war entirely.

As he put the helmet back, he accidentally jostled one of the packs poorly placed on the edge of the shelf, and something fell out.  
He caught the object before it hit the ground, and immediately opened the bag to put it back.   
Solas hesitated for a moment, looking at the object. It looked like a stone tablet, but was incredibly thin and light, despite being made of metal. And he could have sworn when he touched it, that it vibrated.

Turning the grey plate over, he was surprised to see a reflection of himself staring back. It wasn’t a proper mirror, and who would carry one of those around in their packs anyway? It was just a reflective black surface, as reflective as a diamond. It was far more reflective than the panel on the large black flame weapon...  
As he peered at it, it did something akin to a blink!

Solas didn’t drop it, but instead shifted his hold to both hands. It “blinked” again, before a white dot appeared in the center of the object.

With brief hesitation, he touched it. As his finger made contact with the surface, a small arrow appeared, aiming to the right. When Solas pulled his hand back, the arrow disappeared.

He touched the white dot again, and slid his finger across the plate to the arrow. An image like a lock appeared where the white dot had been, and went from a locked configuration to an unlocked one.

The blackness disappeared, to be replaced with a strange little set of shapes and squares. On the top half of the image was a series of symbols printed on ten rectangular blocks, and below were ten empty receptacles, with the same symbols as above in a different random arrangement.  
Another arrow appeared, pointing from one of the symbols to the receptacle with the matching symbol, then disappeared.

Solas picked one of the blocks, and put it in the appropriate slot. There was a flash, and a green symbol appeared in a corner of the plate.  
Moving another, the green symbol reappeared.

Curious, he selected one of the blocks, and deliberately put it in the wrong slot. A red symbol flashed this time, one that resembled two crossed sticks.

After completing the matching task, there were a variety of other tests that appeared involving symbol and more shape matching. There was one particular face that put a series of dots next to a symbol, and the number of dots kept increasing in a sequence. They were numbers, he soon realized. Symbols for numbers.

Solas glanced around at the guards, who didn’t seem interested at all in the strange device he held. Tucking the metal tablet under one arm, he left the building, and moved to a tent that served as his living quarters.  
Sitting down on his bed roll, Solas took out a piece of parchment and a quill, and wrote down each of the symbols and their number values. He also wrote down the symbols that appeared to mean multiplication, equals, addition, and division. Touching the face again, another appeared, this time displaying a series of mathematical equations with empty spaces next to the equals sign.  
A grid appeared on one side, with their symbols for 0 to 9 in each segment.

Completing the first equation, Solas pressed the single digit answer on the grid, and the green mark appeared once more.

As he rapidly completed the equations, they steadily became more complicated, moving into fractions and decimals. While not particularly strenuous, it was the best workout he’d had of this sort of thing in a long time.  
There were some units of measurement as well, which he managed to figure out how to convert to something he could recognize.

 

From what he gathered, these inquiries seemed to be some sort of intelligence test. Why, he did not know, but the device seemed to approve of his answers.

 

When Solas had finally completed enough of them, the tablet face “blinked” again, and a sideways triangle within a circle appeared in the center.  
With hesitation, he touched it, and nearly dropped the device when music began to play. A rousing gentle score, of violins and unrecognizable instruments, putting Solas in the mind of spring weather for some reason. A large seal appeared on the face. A looming profile of an eagle in a circle of stars, sheltering a group of humans of various ages and genders, who looked up hopefully at a group of what looked like long metal bricks of flying artwork.  
Unfamiliar letters made up words along the border of the seal. It shifted to the side slightly, and a second one appeared. A gridded circle, and a pair of olive branches over three words. Still undecipherable. Some of the letters resembled the one on the human mercenary’s armor.

The music faded out, and phrases began to emanate from the device. Words in dozens of different languages, Solas counted fifty-five exactly. One, a child’s voice, sounded similar to the words the mercenary spoke with.

An image replaced the seals, of a large sphere against a black background. He realized it was of a planet, but not one he’d seen before, and definitely not the one he stood upon. Most of the side he could see was blue under all the clouds, except for a large land mass in the northern hemisphere. It was a variety of colors including tan, green, and brown. The planet began to rotate, revealing more ocean, and more continents, and more colors covering the land masses.

The planet shifted to the side slightly, allowing for two rotating images of a human male and a female to appear. He raised an eyebrow at the fact that their silhouettes wore nothing at all.  
The image stayed on the humans a moment more, before the view shifted, moving faster and faster toward the planet. Like a bird or some other creature, the image soared through the clouds. It broke out of the grey surrounds, and a city came into view as the rousing music returned. The city was marvelous, filled with glimmering spires taller than anything he’d seen, technology he could scarcely recognize, and uncountable humans. Thousands, tens of thousands. Millions?

Many more images came by, of magnificent works; a massive pyramid, statues, temples, a huge lighthouse, gardens, a wall that stretched over hills far beyond which the eye could see. Beautiful landscapes, animals, plants, architecture, and long stretches of stone covered in strange metal contraptions. Long fields, with flying machines dotting the land and the sky. Images of humans, only humans, going about their daily lives, manipulating scenes and machinery both familiar and unfamiliar. School rooms, marketplaces, food, houses, books. Explorers reaching a frozen tundra. One of the last images was of a massive machine climbing into the sky atop a column of fire. The final picture showed a human(presumably, Solas couldn’t be certain) clad in a strange white outfit covering them head to toe, tumbling through the sky high above the planet’s surface.

The view of the planet appeared again, and showed off more of the flying bricks seen on the seal. They were machines, all different shapes and sizes, hovering high above the planet like the human had. The view focused in on one in particular, which twisted away from the planet and turned toward the blackness. The space in front of it seemed to ripple, almost tear, as a dim blue spiral appeared. The object looked as though it were being sucked inside, stretched beyond belief, before it snapped forward into the spiral, taking Solas’ perspective with it.

They emerged above another planet, different from the first, but with perhaps even more contraptions above it. More magnificent cities and works of brilliance were shown, before the spiral reappeared to show him another world. The process repeated several times. Though all different, the planet had roughly the same environment and atmosphere. Curiously, there seemed to be even more of the flying bricks floating above each of them, and even greater variety.

The planets disappeared to be replaced with one of the flying bricks, a rotating representation of it. Extremely massive, if he read the symbols of size and had converted them correctly, the contraptions were approximately 2500 meters in length, and 800 meters in width. To his disbelief, based on following images depicting crew and passengers going about their work, it was a ship. A ship designed to sail between the stars.  
Finally, there was an image of four humans, two males and two females, a child and adult of each gender. They waved at Solas. The image changed to a handshake, with a final phrase of text on display and what he guessed was that phrase stated aloud by the tablet. Some symbol of friendship, it seemed to be.

 

Solas put the metal tablet down, leaning back as he took in the information. He couldn’t deny it. Humans built all that he’d seen. Humans! How was this possible? Humans were a bunch of savage and destructive fools. How could they even conceive of such majesty, such amazing works, let alone create them? How could they sail the stars? How could they unlock the secret of flight? How could they have made the very device he held in his hands?  
Such serenity, such knowledge and power. And they wanted to expand, they wanted to offer friendship to anyone and anything beyond the stars.

Despite the pleasantness of the presentation, it struck Solas as a bit off. Why were there only humans? No Elves, or Dwarves, or Qunari, not even the strange creature locked up beside the mercenary. There were also few beasts in the images that he could recognize. What did that indicate?

 

He noticed that after the presentation ended, another test appeared. With inspection, he realized it was not a test, but some sort of game. Designed to teach the viewer the language of the tablet makers, matching sounds with symbols and meanings.  
First letters, then words, and whole sentences. He wrote down as much as he could for reference.  
As he poked around, Solas discovered how to manipulate the device to show the initial presentation once again, and show other images and moving pictures. Fascinating.

 

Varric Tethras stepped into the tent, carrying a bag full of equipment and sitting down on his own bedroll. “They finally gave me Bianca back,” he said, pulling a cloth off his one-of-a-kind crossbow, “...but they couldn’t leave the bolts alone, now could they? I counted. There are definitely four missing. Four guards were at the inventory, too. I wonder what happened...”

Solas didn’t look up, continuing to write down words, their meanings, and sounds.

“What’s making that noise?” Varric inquired, hearing some of the device’s speech.

“It’s a magic book belonging to one of the foreign mercenaries.” Solas explained simply.

Varric stood up and moved to peer over Solas’ shoulder. “Huh. Words? Some sort of magic-language-thing?”

“Yes.”

“Huh.” he repeated, not too interested now that he saw the language teacher, “Those two mercenaries are quite interesting. Never seen or heard about anything like ‘em. And I’m pretty sure I’ve heard most of the stories about foreign cannibals. Usually they’re in rags and short thin little creatures. They’re not supposed to be the biggest and maybe strongest human I’ve ever seen, wearing armor better than the old elven stuff, and a qunari who got his head stuck in a meat grinder. Did you see his jaws? They split into four!”

“I passed the soldier who decided to make a closer inspection. I hope he was happy with the results.” Solas deadpanned.

“They killed quite a few of the Seeker’s men. Using the usual beatings of course, but also some sort of magical weapon, from what I’ve been told. Spewed thunder and light, killed nearly all of the people hit. There's a dozen Templars down in the infirmary, and three times as many rotting in the snow up the mountain. That’s how they caught the Qunari. Their leader tried to get the human to surrender by threatening him, and she blew her hand away. I saw that squad leader’s arm, there wasn't anything left of the forearm bones. Then a Templar managed to tackle her, knocking her weapon away and letting the others jump on, but she fought like an animal. Pulled out a razor-sharp knife and sliced off fingers and a nose before they finally got her.”

Solas raised an eyebrow, “How unfortunate.”

“I wonder where they're from. They don't make 'em like that around here, either of them. Andraste, the stories they could tell…”

“Good luck getting them to talk. Neither speaks common, though the woman can understand it.”

Varric looked a little disappointed, “Well, if you find any more magic books of their stories, let me know.”

Solas tapped the side of the tablet, “I believe this contains what you are looking for. It is not just a language device, it seems to be an encyclopedia, used to introduce newcomers to their society and people. I think you will find their true origin...quite unearthly.”

 

XXXXX

 

Many hours after the opening of what would come to be known as “The Breach”, The Dalish elven mage known as Gil-Galad awoke. He blinked rapidly, finding himself bearing a massive headache. Sitting up, he found himself shackled, in a large dark room, with half a dozen human guards surrounding him.

The Keeper told me I'd have days like this.

He couldn't remember what happened before he blacked out. Gil-Galad did remember the Temple of Sacred Ashes, the constant notes taken on the other representatives there…

A painful stinging sensation struck his right hand, and he turned it over to look in shock upon a bright green mark. It quietly thrummed with energy, pulsating and sending jolts through his whole arm.

He glared around at the humans watching him. There was the flash of returning memory, of similarly-clad soldiers attacking him just before waking up in this chamber. One departed, probably to inform their superiors that he’d awoken.

 

Gil-Galad glanced around, examining the room. There were two other captives with him, one very large human judging by the ears, and a massive dark silhouette whose size only matched a qunari. They were shackled as he was.

“What are you in here for?” he inquired, looking at the human. Their size and armor made it difficult to tell their gender.

They shrugged, lifting their shackled hands and extending their middle finger toward the guards. She, judging by her voice, garbled something in a language he didn't understand. But then she pointed to him, as if to say, what about you? 

“I don’t know how I got in here. I feel like that time I went drinking in...I don’t even remember the city, all I remembered was waking up in a stable...and you have no idea what I’m saying, do you?”

She nodded, to his surprise. Pointed to her ears , she nodded, but pointed to her mouth and shook her head.

Gil-Galad simply stared at her, confused. The woman seemed frustrated by that, and beat her head against her shackles.  
“Are you saying...you can understand me, but not speak?”

The stranger stopped hitting her head, but gave a wavy gesture with her hand, and spoke in her language again. She gestured to herself, “Sergeant Zhao Lopez,” she stated slowly, “Lopez.” Then she pointed to Gil-Galad.

Assuming that was her name, he pointed to himself, “Gil-Galad, First to Lavellan’s clan-keeper.”

When she nodded, he turned to her companion, “What about you?”

The qunari, dressed in a white and orange winter outfit of some kind, looked at him, and through the gloom the elf realized that their skull was the wrong shape. It was far too short, and there didn’t seem to be a forehead...then, his mouth fell open in four mandibles, and let out a hoot.

...That was no qunari.

Gil-Galad shifted away in fear from the array of intimidating teeth, but the human simply rolled her eyes, gesturing to him with her middle finger again. “Henry.”  
The mutilated qunari-like thing hissed at the gesture and pushed her. She kicked him. He smacked her on the side of the head.

 

The sound of a heavy metal door opening did little to stop their fighting. The guards pried the two apart before the approaching authority figures, reducing the drama of their entrance a bit. Gil-Galad recognized them by reputation, the right and left hands of the Divine. The Divine’s spymaster, Leliana, was well known to the Dalish intelligence network, but it took him a longer time to recognize Cassandra, the Seeker who seemed to be the muscle for the Divine.

Cassandra walked up to the small group, and began pacing around them. She glared at Gil-Galad in particular.  
“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now.”

Gil-Galad glared back, “Since when have Templars needed an excuse to kill elves, or mages? Just make one up after my execution, work that little mind of yours for once. If I am to die, I’m not going to give you the reason.”

The Seeker ignored his words, “The Conclave is destroyed, all those who attended are dead. Except for you.”

Gil-Galad fell silent, any anger fading away as the words setting in. The Conclave destroyed?  
And if he was the only survivor…”You think I’m responsible!”

Cassandra seized Gil-Galad’s arm, eliciting an angry bark from Lopez. “Explain this.”

She gestured to the green mark, glowing again and making Gil-Galad groan with pain.

“I...I can’t.”

“What do you mean, ‘you can’t’?” Cassandra demanded.

“I don’t know what that is, or how it got there!”

“You’re lying!” the Seeker barked, hauling Gil-Galad up by the collar. Lopez barked again, and had to be forced back at swordpoint by the guards.

Leliana grabbed Cassandra’s arm and pushed her back as well, “We need him, Cassandra!”

That got another inquiry from Lopez, of disbelief this time.

Cassandra stepped away, allowing Leliana to move forward with a bit less hostility. “Do you remember what happened? How this began?”

Gil-Galad sought his mind for the fragments of memories, catching ahold of some.

“I...remember running. Things were chasing me, and then...a woman?”

“A woman?”

“She reached out to me, but then…” Gil-Galad growled in frustration, and shook his head.

 

Cassandra shook her head, and pulled Leliana aside, “Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take him to the rift.”

“And his allies?” Leliana asked, pointing at Lopez and Henry.

Lopez growled, and nearly shrieked something, waving at Gil-Galad and leaning away.

“I don’t know these people.” Gil-Galad said, leaning away as well, “And I think she’ll agree.”

Lopez nodded rapidly, motioning with her thumb at him.

Cassandra rolled her eyes, “Of course, of course. An incredibly tall and strong foreign human mage with spells, armor and weapons more powerful than anything we’ve ever seen, and a qunari who used to be a dim-witted farmer by the looks of it, just happen to be in the vicinity of the biggest explosion in recent history. She just happened to be wearing your colors, hiding from our forces, observing them, and when confronted, kills nearly half the platoon sent to retrieve her. All a coincidence, obviously.”

“Oh, of course, I forgot.” Gil-Galad snarled, “Excuse me, this is all part of my dastardly plan to destroy all hope of stopping the war. I deliberately told my rescuers who I can't even understand to wait far, far away from where I was going to emerge from the Fade, then deliberately emerged from the portal at the center of the angry allies of the ones I wanted to destroy, allowing myself to easily be captured and killed. Such a masterstroke. I am such a genius. Fen’harel’s teeth, do you even think before you speak?! What in the name of the lost Dales is wrong with all of you? My armor?! I've seen this gear all over Ferelden! Hers looks nothing like it, and is colored a completely different shade of green! If I had a spell that could destroy the Conclave and leave myself completely intact, why would I let you capture me? Why would I leave myself alive as the only suspect? Why wouldn’t I just leave if I have such power?”

“Obviously, something went wrong with the spell…” Cassandra murmured. “You may not have intended it--”

“Well, then how am I not dead? If a spell backfires, it harms the user first, then everyone else. I broke my arm as a child learning that!” he paused, thinking, “What did happen, exactly?”

Cassandra grimaced, and nodded at the guards, “It will be easier to show you. Bring all three.”

 

When they left the building, Gil-Galad was treated to a disturbing sight. A massive hole torn in the sky, green energy matching the scar on his hand, lifting stone into the sky through a loose connection to the ground.

“We call it The Breach,” Cassandra said dramatically, staring up at it, “It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It’s not the only such rift, just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave.”

“An explosion can do that?” Gil-Galad inquired in disbelief, ignoring Lopez banging her head against Henry’s shoulder, to his obvious irritation and discomfort.

“This one did.” Cassandra confirmed, “Unless we act, the Breach will grow until it swallows the world.”

 

To punctuate her words, the rift pulsated, growing a small amount as Gil-Galad’s mark shot out energy. He cried out in pain, falling to his knees.

Lopez moved over, and withdrew what looked like a saltshaker from some compartment in her armor, concealing it in her palm.  
She subtly waved it in his direction, and grimaced. She muttered something and hit something else she was concealing in her outfit a few times. She hissed, and something apologetic-sounding was uttered.

Cassandra stared for a moment at Lopez, before explaining, “Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads...and it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn’t much time.”

Lopez gaped at Cassandra once again, then facepalmed.

“You say it may be the key. To doing what?” Gil-Galad asked.

“Closing the Breach. Whether that’s possible is something we shall discover shortly. It is our only chance, however. And yours.”

“You still think I did this, don’t you? To myself?! Maybe with their help?”

“Not intentionally. Clearly something went wrong.” Cassandra sighed.

Lopez exhaled frustratedly, and gestured with her middle fingers at Cassandra.

“And if I’m not responsible?”

“Someone is. And you are our only suspect. You wish to prove your innocence? This is the only way.”

Gil-Galad sighed, looking at the mark on his hand. It throbbed again with pain. “I understand.”

“Then…?”

“I’ll do whatever I can.”

 

Cassandra nodded, and began to pull Gil-Galad with her.

“Wait, what about them?” he inquired, gesturing to his cell-mates.

Cassandra looked at the elf, “I thought you said you didn’t know them. They don’t seem to know you either. And one of them is responsible for many deaths.”

Gil-Galad replied, “I trust you as much as I’d trust the dread wolf. She’s a fellow mage, and she might know a little more about magic than one who has dedicated her life to suppressing any understanding of it. And she defended me. For now, she and her bodyguard are the only allies I’ve got.” 

Lopez looked a little surprised at that, but shrugged, and nodded. He took that as an agreement.

Cassandra glared daggers at Lopez, before sighing. “Very well, bring them along.”

Lopez dug her heels into the snow when they tried to push her, waving for them to stop.

“Get her moving.” Cassandra ordered of Gil-Galad.

“She seems to understand what you’re saying, you know. Why not bark at her?”

“Because you’re the only one she seems to listen to. Now do it.”

Gil-Galad shrugged, and moved over, “Is there a problem?”

Lopez seemed to think for a moment, then pointed to herself. She mimed pulling something down over her head, pulling something else over her shoulders, and brandishing something that requires the use of both hands.

He tried to decode the signals, “...hat. Helmet. Helmet? Backpack as well? And...staff?”

At that last one Lopez facepalmed, but shrugged and nodded anyway.

Gil-Galad realized what she was trying to say, “Seeker, we need our equipment. She was armed, I assume? Helmet, staff, and a pack?”

Cassandra shook her head, “Absolutely not.”

Lopez’s fists balled, and Gil-Galad spoke quickly, “We are going into a zone filled with demons. You need every available hand on the front lines, and we are a drain on resources if you need to protect us. At least give the woman back her helmet, what harm could that do?”

 

Cassandra considered it, before growling an order, “Soldiers, retrieve their equipment, but do not return it yet. You will get your staffs before long, magi, but not until we get out of Haven.”

 

Henry perked up for the first time at the mention of equipment, and Lopez nodded in approval.  
A few young humans emerged from the stockade before long, bearing an elven staff, Gil-Galad’s pack, hat, and gloves, along with more of Lopez’s strange equipment.

Their packs and clothing were handed over, their shackles released, but all their weapons were retained by the guards. Cassandra sent them on ahead somewhere.  
Lopez eagerly pulled on her helmet, snapping the restraint together and adjusting some sort of extension along the side of her chin.

Hitting the side of it a few times, she spoke, “Test...test...is this working?”

Cassandra and Gil both looked at her in surprise, then glanced at each other.

“Did you--?”

“I thought--”

“Alright, it is working,” Lopez said, “Hello. I am Sergeant Zhao Lopez of the United Nations Marine Corps. This is Henry. An Elite.”

 

XXXXX

 

Thank god, Jesus and the stars themselves for the UNSC’s bottomless paranoia and computer memory. Neural implants were designed so that soldiers from all across the colonies could talk to each other on the battlefield without requiring a language course. However, since they weren’t exactly common outside the military, UNSC helmets were programmed with systems to allow them to anyone without the implants.  
And whoever programmed the equipment seemed to have anticipated the possibility of a human language not in the databanks, and added a function that would adapt to the new dialect through in-depth analysis.

Unfortunately, basic phrases was just about all it could do. If a soldier had to live with a group that didn’t speak their language for an extended period of time, they would still have to learn at least some words. The program would integrate the spoken word with its own information, however, filling in the blanks to reduce the load and let the soldier learn faster.

 

Judging by their expressions, the locals didn’t expect it. The Seeker(whatever rank that was), Cassandra, snarled, “You lying bastard!” and advanced with intent.

Lopez shifted, bringing her knee up with foot outward, and pushed when Cassandra reached her, knocking the Templar on her rear.

“I don’t speak your--” the sergeant’s words cut out, slipping back into the English, and she hit the side of her helmet. The system was still processing. The indicator in her vision winked green again, and she started back up into the local language, “Helmet is magic, does the talking for me.” she explained in the helmet’s very simple vocabulary, “That’s why I need it.”

Gil-Galad, the elf guy, helped Cassandra to her feet, and rubbed his face, “Interesting. That’s the least-strange thing I’ve heard all day. Shall we move on, if we’re going to?”  
Now that she could see him standing up, Lopez noted he was shorter than most of the other normal humans around him, though most of them were a few centimeters shorter than herself. Her diet and modern medicines presumably made a difference.

Cassandra glared at Lopez for a moment longer, before sighing, “Yes, we must. Come.”

 

They passed through the middle of avalanche-town, with many angry people yelling and throwing things. According to Cassandra, they seemed to have latched onto the group as the source of their troubles. Someone named Justinia, with the title of “divine”, was killed in the blast. She was important for some reason, head of this thing called “the Chantry”. That could have been anything from the government to their state religion.  
Whatever she was, she’d apparently been the key to stopping the war between the wizards and the bucketheads. But with her and the leaders who’d been meeting killed, that would likely make the war escalate.

Cassandra seemed more worried about the Breach, which was pretty understandable. Lopez didn’t really care about the little spat at the moment either, the giant hole in the sky pumping out alien invaders took precedence.

They’d have to deal with it eventually, though. Cassandra promised “a trial, no more”.

 

Lopez kept an eye on Henry. He hadn’t been speaking much lately, barely making eye contact. She wondered why he hadn’t tried escaping at all, or tried killing himself when captured. The briefings said that was what Elites would try to do.  
She assumed he was some sort of special ops, more valuable and thus supposed to make every effort to escape rather than just die, explaining his behavior aboard the Mona Lisa. It was still strange to see, stranger still to see that he didn’t kill her or anyone else now that they’d found humans.   
Not that I’m complaining. Least I have someone on my side.

They moved out of the town, and up the slopes toward the slipspace rupture. They passed primitive fortifications, stone walls and destroyed houses, as well as many body bags. It seemed the locals were putting up a defense. Fires and destroyed wagons were strewn across the footpath they walked up.

 

They reached a mountain pass(more like a hill pass to be honest), with a much clearer view of the giant hole in the sky. The beam of energy leading from it passing below a ridge and out of sight. They still couldn’t see the bottom of the elevator.

All of a sudden, the portal pulsed again, bolts of energy and lightning arcing out. The anomaly on Gil-Galad’s hand did the same. He cried out in pain and fell to his knees.

Lopez scanned him with her tricorder again. It still couldn’t tell what was wrong with him, only that he wasn’t doing well.

Cassandra helped him to his feet, “The pulses are coming faster now. The larger the Breach gets, the more rifts appear, the more demons we face.”

Lopez looked at her, “Rifts? What rifts?” she assumed the demons meant whatever unknown aliens were coming through.

Matter-of-factly, but grim, Cassandra explained, “Rifts have been appearing all over the landscape. Our troops are spread thin.”

“No, I mean, what are rifts?”

The Seeker looked at her in surprise, “They’re doorways to the world of demons.” she turned to Gil-Galad, “They say you emerged from one, in fact, then fell unconscious.”  
Cassandra paused, and looked uncomfortable, “...And that there was a woman behind you before it collapsed. No one knows who she was.”

“Well,” Gil-Galad murmured, “That’s some shred of evidence on my side at least.”

“Hooray for you.” Lopez grunted, “There’s about two dozen body bags of evidence against me.”

Henry worted, somewhat indignantly.

“And him too.” She swore he could understand more than he seemed to, he just chose to be an ass about it and pretend not to.

 

They reached a stone bridge across a frozen river, where a dozen guards were running about, readying themselves for battle. At the other end, they spotted the soldiers sent ahead with their weapons. Cassandra hadn’t trusted the prisoners with their gear so close to civilians, apparently.

Suddenly, Lopez’s HUD warbled and flashed with a red arrow, pointing upward. Artillery incoming.

“Incoming!” she cried, diving onto Gil-Galad, covering his neck, exhaling, and opening her mouth. Henry landed beside her with a whump, performing a similar procedure.

A blast of green energy slammed into the bridge seconds later. One whole end was destroyed, sending a ripple through the rest of the stone that shattered the entire structure.

Everyone on or next to the bridge tumbled to the ground, landing painfully on the ice below. No one seemed hurt.

Lopez’s HUD chirped and pointed upward again. This time they could see it, a larger green object coming from the direction of the portal. It smashed through a small hill, before careening into the lake ice ahead of them. The melted water sizzled with the intense heat, a green flame burning atop the ice around it.  
Several creatures clawed their way out of the breaks in the ice, releasing flashes of green light into the sky. Green crystals seemed to grow around their exit points. Probably just the ice.

So the troops had emerged at last, likely in some sort of assault boat. They sure as hell weren’t Covenant, but they luckily weren’t the Flood.  
They were grotesque, like giant slugs with arms and no eyes. Yet to To Lopez’s confusion, they didn’t carry any weapons of any kind. How was that any kind of way to invade a planet as primitive as this?

Clouds of sparking green and black spread out further from the impact point, more and more creatures emerging from the unbroken ice. There was no sign of breakage when they emerged, probably melting it or something.  
Neat trick.

 

The surviving local soldiers regained their senses, and, led by Cassandra, threw themselves at the enemy.

Making eye contact with Henry, Lopez nodded at him. He acknowledged. Together they set upon the two still-stunned soldiers who carried their arms.

 

Henry grabbed his hatchet and easily removed the bat from the Templar helmet it was lodged in. Retrieving her MA5B, Lopez rammed a magazine inside, racked the bolt and shouldered it.  
It seemed the guards weren't any front line soldiers. All had run, fallen back a short distance, or died aside from the Seeker, and inflicted exactly two casualties upon the enemy. All in the time Lopez had turned her back.

“Get down!” the sergeant roared. Cassandra looked back. Her eyes widened and she dove to the side.

Lopez sprayed the monsters with lead, tearing through their unarmored hides with ease and killing most of them. A few single shots finished off the ones still standing.  
Ignoring the looks of shock from the others, Lopez reloaded, and jogged up to one of the creatures. It was splayed out with green blood oozing from several neat holes, but continued to gasp for breath. Sounded like it’s lung had been punctured.

“What the hell are you?” Lopez whispered, “No uniform, no tags, no weapons, no nothing. What on earth are you?”

It offered no answers, merely clawing at her boot before expiring. Then…”What the hell?”

The body began to shimmer, the air around it distorting, before it vanished. Into thin air.

At Henry’s confused wort, the sergeant realized she wasn’t seeing things. Looking foolish, she stepped into the spot where it had been, waving her hands around trying to find it.  
“What’s going on?!” the other bodies had vanished too.

“Is there a problem?” Cassandra asked, walking up and dusting snow off her armor.

Lopez glared at her, “Hell yeah, there’s a problem! Where did the bodies go?!”

“They’re demons, they do that.”

“You’ve fought these guys before?” Lopez demanded, “How many times does a--” her helmet slipped back into English when she said slipspace rupture, and she tried again, “...A Breach appear a day?”

“This has never happened before! We’ve never seen anything like it before! Are you telling me that you have?”

“Are you telling me these creatures invade a lot?” Lopez countered.

“Of course. Never to this scale, however. Haven’t you seen demons before?”

“Different kind. Mostly monsters like him,” she gestured with her thumb at Henry, “and a whole lot of other critters, but nothing like these things.”

Cassandra peered at her, confused, “...He is your enemy? Why are you with him?”

“Honestly, I ask myself the same question every day.” Deciding to ponder mysteries later, Lopez strapped her rifle to the magnetic strip on her back, and walked back to the guards.

“...What are you?” one shocked guard whispered, not resistant to Lopez snatching her remaining gear from his limp hands.

“Just a marine sergeant, kid. All in a day's work.”

The other guard murmured, “you have Andraste’s fire...Where are you from? Who are you?”

Lopez smirked a little. She knew a greenhorn when she saw one, “Sergeant Lopez of the UNSC Marine Corps. Now, unless you want to get eaten, I suggest you two fall back.”

“Who are you to give out orders?” Cassandra asked, “they're my men.”

Lopez flipped her off, “Great quality soldiers. Do you teach them to piss themselves, too? I'm sure those dead assholes over there had the demons shaking in their boots with those squeals of terror. At least these two had the good sense to give us our weapons back and stay down. And look at who killed more than any of you all did!”

“Quite impressive,” said Gil-Galad, stepping up as he examined his liberated staff, wiping blood off in the snow, “is that some sort of attack wand?”

“No, it's some sort of magic crossbow,” Cassandra said dismissively.

“Despite the fact, you moron, it doesn’t have a crosspiece, strings, shoots bullets, and is just in every way not a crossbow?”

“Then what is it?”

“Something that's none of your business, you--” her speech cut back into English again, not translating her insult, “It makes loud noises and kills things. Now shut up and get us back on the path.”

 

Cassandra growled, and stormed off in the direction of the Breach.

“How does it work? Not typical magic, I’d say,” Gil-Galad observed, “What’s that smell?”

“I’d tell you, but UNSC rules...well, they don’t let us tell you guys much info.”

“‘You guys’?” He inquired, “you mean elves?”

“No, I mean all of you.” she gestured to him, the guards, and Cassandra, “All of you.”

“You mean people of Ferelden?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Is that what you call your planet?” Lopez asked.

“No, that’s just the name of this land. Do you even know where you are?” he asked, a little sarcastically.

The sergeant opened her mouth to reply, but decided against it. She would have to stop talking about a lot of things, she realized.

Lopez made sure her sidearm was loaded, her bolo shortsword still intact, and Henry’s bat not cracked. Not that it would, being made of oak from Sigma Octanus IV. Best oak in the galaxy.

 

Unable to reach the road(well, Lopez could, but everyone else lacked grappling equipment), they fought their way through the frozen river bed, Gil-Galad and Lopez leaving Henry and Cassandra with very little to do. His “spells” weren’t plasma or laser, more like throwing around lightning, liquid nitrogen, and napalm, but it was ranged and it worked.

Reaching a set of stairs set into the mountainside that led back up to the road, fighting was heard from higher up. 

“We need to help them!” Cassandra said, eliciting eye rolls from the rest of the party.

“Thank you, captain obvious.” Lopez muttered, checking her rifle, “using the royal ‘we’ there, are ya?”

Walking onto a bluff, they oversaw a battle taking place among the ruins of some building. A handful of demons fighting two distinct figures. The bald elf from the interrogation chamber, Solas, and a dwarf with a crossbow. He didn’t wear a hat, and his coat was open. In negative-twenty degrees celsius weather.  
Above them hovered a strange sight; a big ball of energy like the Breach, but covered in shifting crystal.

Lopez ignored it, and targeted each of the demons. Four shots, and they fell. Didn’t even know what hit them.

 

The party jogged up, and Solas dashed forward. “Quickly!” he grabbed Gil-Galad’s hand, “Before more come through!”

He held Gil-Galad’s hand up to the arcing ball of energy. After a moment’s delay, energy began to pour out between the two, the crystal shifting faster and glowing more and more. Within seconds, there was a blast of light, and the energy was gone with a snap.

“What did you do?” Gil-Galad demanded in disbelief, cradling his hand.

“I did nothing. The credit is yours.”

Lopez held her TACPAD up to the space where the hole had once been. There was radiation sufficient with a recent slipspace rupture. A very tiny and unstable one, that would have collapsed had any tried to come through, but a tiny portal all the same.

“I did that?” Gil-Galad asked, looking at his palm.

 

“Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake--and it seems I was correct.”

“How the hell do these two things connect?” Lopez demanded, “A flesh wound and a freaking--” her voice cut out again, the computer still unable to determine a good word for “slipspace”.

“I am uncertain of their origin, but their magic is connected in some way. Perhaps what caused the Breach also caused the mark.” Solas replied, unfazed by Lopez’s appearance, or manner.

“Meaning it could also close the Breach itself.” Cassandra concluded.

“Possibly.” Solas replied, “It seems you hold the key to our salvation.”

Lopez snorted with ironic amusement, “Okay, what I just saw was weird. But that portal was unstable anyway. You--” primitive screwheads didn’t translate again, “think his little--” radiation didn’t translate either, “will close that thing?” she gestured to the portal in the sky, 

“Why wouldn’t it? Do you have a better plan?” Cassandra inquired, looking at the sergeant with a glare.

Lopez flipped her mike up so she could speak in English, “My god, I’m surrounded by idiots.”

Solas chuckled a bit, “I have had similar feelings in the past. It is best not to advertise them.”

 

Lopez did a double take. Pointedly not flipping her mike back down, she inquired slowly, “You can understand me?”

Solas shrugged, and answered in English, “A little bit. I suppose you will want this back.”

He reached into a satchel at his side, and withdrew a grey Colonial Administration Authority(CAA)-issue tablet. Checking her own pack, Lopez realized that one of her two tablets was missing. The one she’d retrieved from the escape pod, with a round CAA logo on its back.

She snatched the tablet back, pushing her mike back down, “How’d you get this?”

“It fell out of your pack. I was merely holding onto it for safekeeping.”

“It’s battery was drained 50%.” Lopez retorted, checking the device’s history, “And you were accessing the first contact systems like crazy!”

“So I borrowed it, then.” 

“How did you even figure it out?”

“Experimentation.”

Lopez rubbed her face with anger, doing her best not to punch the guy. She was glad the tablet could at least recharge.

 

The dwarf walked up, “Well, glad we won’t be ass-deep in demons forever.”

He introduced himself, “Varric Tethras; rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tag-along.”  
He winked at Cassandra, who bared her teeth and huffed at him.

For once, we agree. Lopez thought, noting Henry was glaring at the dwarf as well. She had no clue what it was, but there was something about Varric’s voice that set her blood pumping.

“Pleased to meet you,” Gil-Galad said, a little awkwardly, “That’s...a nice crossbow you have.”

“Aw, isn’t she?” Varric looked over his shoulder at the butt of the weapon, “Bianca and I have been through alot together.”

“You named your crossbow Bianca?” Gil-Galad inquired.

“Of course.”

“Lots of people do that. I know guys who named their tanks.” Lopez added.

Varric looked up at Lopez, “Hello there. Who might you be?”

“Sergeant Lopez, UNSC Marine Corps.”

“That’s it?” He smirked. “It sounds so much better if you draw your introduction out,” he explained, “It’s more impressive.”

“That’s not what I do--” the word moron didn’t translate, “Being a marine is impressive enough.”

“Alright then, no need to make a scene.” he stepped over to Henry, “And you? You’ve already made quite an impression in the infirmary for eating Templar hands.”

Henry made a blarg sound, glaring at him.

“How about I just call you tall, dark and teeth?” the dwarf grinned up at the seven-foot Elite, unfazed by the cricket bat hovering dangerously nearby.

“He’s called Henry, you numbskull.” Lopez growled, “Or hinge-head, or split-face, split-lip, shark, alligator, genocidal monster from hell, dino...we’ve got plenty of nicknames.”

Most of those didn’t translate, but Varric seemed particularly interested in the word referring to him, “What’d you call me?”

“Some sort of insult, referring to your skull.” Solas explained.

Lopez had a more honest definition. “Idiot. You. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.”

Varric shrugged, “I’ve heard worse. Now, shall we go?”

Cassandra shook her head, “Absolutely not. Your help is appreciated Varric, but--”

“Have you seen the valley recently, Seeker? Your soldiers aren’t in control there anymore. You need me.”

They held a glare and a grin respectively for several seconds, before Cassandra broke off with a disgusted growl.

 

Solas turned to Gil-Galad and Lopez, “I am Solas, if there are introductions to be made. I am pleased to see you still live.” he said to Gil-Galad.

“He means, ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept’.” Varric interjected.

“Thank you.” Gil-Galad replied to Solas, “I suppose I am in your debt.”

“Thank me if we manage to close the Breach without killing you in the process.”

Solas looked at Cassandra, “Cassandra, you should know: the magic involved here is unlike any I have seen.” he pointed to Gil-Galad, “I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power.”

“I’ve seen it before,” Lopez said, “I know what it is, though I can’t exactly say for certain whether or not I can close it.”

“Really?” Cassandra said, doubtfully, “You’ve seen something like the Breach before?”

“Lots of times. So has hinge-head over there,” she jerked her head at Henry, “Just haven’t seen many in-atmosphere. That’s usually very dangerous.”

“In-atmosphere?” Cassandra questioned. The computer was getting better at figuring out the local vocabulary, “What does that mean?”

“In atmosphere, in close proximity to a planet’s surface in the air that covers it.”

Cassandra shook her head, clearly not understanding, and started walking along the road again.

Lopez shrugged, and followed.

Solas fell into step alongside her, “How is it that you can understand us perfectly, but you couldn’t speak until recently? And have trouble getting across basic insults?”

“Implant in my head helps me understand. No magic helmet means I can’t talk to you. And the...magic that runs my helmet has trouble speaking your language.”

“Interesting. Is this the same magic used in your tablet?”

“Yes. That one was kind of a ‘baby’s first tablet’, so it was designed to be intuitive...but I’m surprised you were able to learn some English in only three days.”

Solas shrugged, “I am a quick study.”

 

They continued marching toward the forward camp, led by Cassandra. It wasn’t long before Varric struck up a conversation, “So, are you three innocent?”

“I don’t remember what happened.” Gil-Galad explained, “These two were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Been there. Both of those will get you every time. You should’ve spun a story.”

“That’s what you would have done.” Cassandra said icily.

“It’s more believable, and less prone to result in premature execution.”

Lopez joined in, “You try telling a story to a bunch of angry bucketheads, jackass. See where that gets you.”

“Bucketheads--? Oh, that’s a good name for them! Never heard them described as such. Usually they’re described with a certain amount of fear or dread.”

The sergeant laughed, “Trust me, those buffoons aren’t anywhere near what it would take to be scary. Someone who looks a lot like hinge-head over there,” she gestured to Henry, who flipped her off once again, “Killed my team and gouged out my eye when I was a rookie. Scorpion cut him apart before he could cut off anything else.”

Varric looked at her, “Wow. That’s gruesome.” He noted the eye with the scar over it. It was a very good false one, he couldn’t even tell it was fake.

“Ya think?”

“So you’ve had combat experience.” he concluded.

“Try twenty years in a war you could scarcely fathom.” Lopez rolled her eyes at the understatement.

“Twenty years--? Where on earth are you from?”

“Not this rock.”

Varric furrowed his brow, “And by rock, you mean…?”

“Planet. Planetoid. World. Globe. Big hunk of rock hurtling around a sun.”

He glanced at Solas, who simply stared back without expression, “So, that metal tablet of yours was telling the truth.”

“Yup.”

“Who were you fighting?” Varric asked.

Lopez and Henry looked at each other, with no small amount of hostility, “Still fighting his people. And several other races.”

“Then why are you with him?” Gil-Galad inquired, joining the conversation, “Why ally with a sworn enemy?”

Lopez rubbed her face, “When we first landed, with my bad leg I couldn’t do as much physical work. Needed him to move stuff. No idea why he hasn’t killed me yet.”

Henry uttered something in their mix of languages. She caught “I”, “need” with some additional sound on the end, “you”, “human”, and “survival equipment”.

“Apparently something to do with the gear I started out with.”

 

Solas looked quizzical, “What do you mean when you say ‘hinge-head’? You keep calling him various things like that.”

“Because that’s what he is.” Lopez grunted.

“Is that the name of his species? Or at least what you call them?” his tone remained neutral, but something about him became off.

“Well, the official nickname is ‘Elite’, but split-lip, split-face, dino, shark, hinge-head, crocodile, all those work too. I think his species is...something that starts with an ‘S’.”

Henry barked a single word angrily. He didn’t look happy at each of the words Lopez called him, Solas noted.

“Sangheili, that’s it. Still, any of them work.”

“I see…” Solas frowned, and fell silent.

 

They made their way to the forward camp, encountering more demons and dispatching them with ease.  
The camp seemed to be little more than a barricade along one of the bridges crossing the river that led up to the Breach, and a handful of soldiers readying themselves for battle.

Near a tent, there was some sort of command post judging by the maps and documents scattered across the tables.  
A human wearing the bizarre robes of the Templar leadership with that golden forehead ornament, was standing near one of the tables. He was chatting with Leliana and several officers, of varying factions and units judging by their dress. Some Bucketheads, some light infantry, and a few wearing hoods and carried bows who acted as scouts.

He looked up as they approached. “What is this? Seeker, what are you doing? I order you to take these prisoners back into custody immediately!”

Lopez flipped the safety off her MA5B, but Cassandra snorted in a humourless manner and stalked up to golden-forehead, “order me? You're a glorified clerk!”

“Justinia is dead, Seeker. Someone must take charge.” The man said, trying and failing to keep the rage out of his voice.

“And you thought it would be you?”

Lopez rolled her eyes, and interrupted, “look you...People, figure out your power struggle later. Just get the next person in line, it’s simple. Right now there's a big slipspace portal in the sky that needs to be closed. Now, I don't have a nuke handy which is what I would recommend, so unfortunately that means our best bet is Gil here, and we gotta cast some magic fairy dust or something, because we don't have any other answers. Is that clear you fucking morons?!”

Everyone present just stared for a while. Even Henry was a little shocked at the outburst. “They can kill us.” He managed to say. Almost a complete sentence.

“I'm sorry, sharky,” she said, rubbing her face, “but by this point, I am just done with their blaming of us, and their stupid little power struggle.”

“She has a point,” Gil-Galad said, turning to the others, “Are you this concerned with who's your religious leader right now? All you need is someone to take command of what forces you have left, correct whatever damage has been done later. This is a threat to all of Thedas.”

“I agree. The hole in the fabric of space takes precedence over who is the new Divine.” Said Solas.

Cassandra interjected, “We are trying to find out who can take command, but with all the casualties--”

“Get. The highest ranking person. You morons. Is it a jurisdiction issue or something? This is a really simple fix.”

“Yes, it is. And I am the remaining official.” golden-head said, “Therefore, in order to preserve our forces, I order an immediate withdrawal.”

Cassandra slammed her fists down on the table, “This is our only chance to stop the Breach, you fool! And you are no military commander. As I said, you’re a clerk. You cannot properly judge our chances of fighting, and to be frank, pulling out now will destroy any chance of controlling the situation.”

Lopez clapped her hands together, “Okay, good! Seeker-lady, you the senior military officer here?”

“I--”

“Good, you take command! You’re in charge, now! Let’s go!”

Golden-forehead stuttered, “Now see here, you--you foreign witch apostate! You are in no position to do or say anything! You’re going to be on your way to Val Royeaux! Leave the fighting to the professionals!”

Lopez stalked over, and grabbed the guy by his collar, “Listen here, you shrimp dick fuck,” judging by his face, that translated. The computer was learning all the time. “I am more professional than you can possibly fathom! Meanwhile you are the farthest thing from! At least Little Miss Tightass over there has some training, and more knowledge of the capabilities of your wannabe-Roman legionnaires. So shut up, and let her do her thing. Capiche?!”

She threw the guy against the table, and rested her hand against her sidearm, “Anyone else want a piece?! Huh? If so, line up over there, otherwise, follow her orders!”

Lopez glared around for one more minute. “Alright then. Looks like everyone is with us.”

She pulled out a rolled-up piece of what looked like paper, swept the shitty maps off the table, and laid it out.  
The smart paper wirelessly linked to her tablet, and the white surface disappeared to display a real-time map of the area from her drone.

“Witchcraft!” Someone whispered.

“Yeah, no shit.” Lopez growled, “Miss tight ass? Plan?”

Cassandra stepped forward, unfazed by the fantastic device. She didn't like it, but she was frankly the only person left who could do this job competently. “It would be best for us to continue holding the line, as we've been doing.” She studied the map, and pointed at several Chantry flags that hovered over groups of yellow icons, “what are those?”

“Those are your troops. The computer grouped them together into units.” Lopez explained. A little of the hostility faded between them, as they settled into familiar roles. Cassandra reminded Lopez of a handful of officers she'd known, the ones who were flown in as replacements and actually listened to the non-coms under their command updating them on the situation.

“They must be following Roderick's orders…” Cassandra growled, her eyes following the slowly-shifting icons as they moved away from the Breach.

“As they should!” Roderick tried to interject from behind the wall of soldiers around the war table.

“Hey, numbskull,” It took Varric a moment to realize Lopez was talking to him, “can you do something about him?”

Varric looked around, furrowing his brow, “What are you asking me for? You think I have any control over what he does?”

Lopez shrugged, “I don’t know, I thought you could just push him away or something...you’re just standing there with nothing to do, and I figured you had nothing better to do!”

“Did you think because I’m a dwarf, that I’d revel in the chance to show off physical--”

“Oh, forget I even asked! Henry, be a dear?”

Henry advanced on Roderick, who moved back rapidly, “Guards! Stop him!”

The guards all looked at each other, then to Cassandra. She let out a burst of air, “Sergeant, call him off. Soldiers, hold your ground.”

Henry tightened his grip on his cricket bat, but did as Lopez asked him.

“Thank you Seeker. Vicious beast…” Roderick grunted, before Henry was standing over him again.

“I don’t think he likes that very much.” Solas observed.

Gil-Galad smirked, “It might be wise to avoid provoking him.”

Lopez whistled to get everyone’s attention, “C’mon people. Twenty-four troops just died as we were talking. Let’s get going!”  
“Someone get word to those units, tell them to get back on the line!” Cassandra barked.

“And tell them if they don't, I'll shoot them myself!” Lopez added.

A messenger dashed off.

“We need to get to the Breach,” Gil-Galad stated, moving over to the magic paper, “What’s the quickest route?”

“Through the mountains, if we use our troops as a distraction.” Leliana said, “But we lost contact with an entire squad up there. It might be wiser to move with our forces instead.”

Lopez hit a control on her TACPAD. Those around the table sprang back as a 3-D topographical model of the surrounding area rose up out of the paper.  
“Yes, magic. Moving on, found them. Right here.” she pointed to a group of blue icons along a mountain path, “Doesn’t look good for them. How many in a squad?”

“Twelve.”

“Well, they’ve lost a few. We could rescue them if we took that path, because I imagine you need every soldier you can get on the front lines instead of looking for a missing LRRP. And if we take the quickest route, that means fewer soldiers lost as a whole.”

“Yes, but it puts Gil-Galad more at risk.” Leliana countered, “and what’s a…’lurp’?”

Henry let out a blarg, seeming to agree with Leliana on what direction to take.

“Listen to me! Seeker, abandon this now,” Roderick begged, “Before more lives are lost.”

“Go back to pushing pencils, dirtbag.” Lopez said, not even looking up. “You don’t want to see what an unarmed hinge-head can do to an arrogant asshole. Trust me, it’s not pretty.”

 

At that moment, the rift rippled again. Energy coursed painfully though Gil-Galad’s hand, as all eyes fell on him.

“How do you think we should proceed?” Cassandra inquired.

“Now you’re asking me what I think?” Gil-Galad demanded, confused.

“You have the mark.” Solas pointed out.

“And you are the one we must keep alive.” Cassandra finished, “Your opinion matters a great deal here. Since we cannot agree on our own…”

Gil-Galad thought, studying the map. “If it reduces the casualties, we should take the mountain pass.”

Lopez nodded, “Good idea. Need an escort?”

 

XXXXX

 

They fought their way up the mountain pass toward the temple, through a mining complex and rescuing the lost unit along the way.  
The group found themselves at the remains of the temple, where they met Leliana and the troops with her. The area was quite shocking to the locals, the clouds of ash that hovered over the crater, the hunks of earth that formed and pointed skyward, some turned to glass...and the bodies. Hundreds of skeletons littered the ground, buried, but it was the mostly-intact bodies that were truly horrifying.

Lopez and Henry didn’t think much of them. Lopez had seen pictures of Pompeii, or a more recent frame of reference, the aftermath of a limited glassing. The latter she assumed Henry was familiar with.

The bodies stood in the positions where they had been at the time of the explosion. Cowering, praying, embracing, fleeing, there were dozens standing about in their death poses.

The sergeant was mildly surprised her fellows were able to keep their lunches down. It was rare to see the statue-like bodies without volcanoes or WMDs involved, and she guessed it must’ve said something about their society that they were able to keep such a handle on it. I’m not paid to think. Leave it to the damn anthropologists.

 

They reached a vantage point above the deepest part of the crater. At the bottom, they could see the point where the green strand of energy from the Breach was connected to. Lopez had expected some sort of space elevator, but supposed the thread could have been made of energy instead of wire. The Covenant used gravity lifts after all.  
She hadn’t expected to see a massive rift at the bottom of the strand, just like the unstable portals Gil-Galad had been closing with his fairy dust. What was going on? Teleporter, must be.  
Ignoring the locals explanations, Lopez began flipping through her radio frequencies. Whoever was powerful enough to create something like this must’ve had some sort of communication system…  
Nothing. Her scanners revealed no electronic signals of any kind from the other side.

Henry looked over her shoulder at her TACPAD, and the marine shrugged, “What do you think? Teleporter?”

The Elite shook his head, and gave a shrug of his own.

Lopez cursed, “Guess we’re stuck with the fairy dust.”

 

As they moved down into the crater, a red material was noticeable in among the ruins. It gave off a strange sense of uneasiness when the sergeant went near it. The others made sure to stay away from it; from their expressions they were experiencing similar feelings.  
“You know this stuff is red lyrium, Seeker.” Varric said to Cassandra.

“I can see it.” Cassandra replied through gritted teeth.

“But what’s it doing here?” Varric pressed.

Solas answered, “Magic could have drawn on lyrium beneath the temple, corrupted it…”

Lopez wasn’t listening. She stopped near a vein to study it, “What is this crap?”

“Don’t touch it!” Varric barked, snatching her outstretched hand away, “The stuff’s evil!”

Lopez waved a concerned Henry off, “What?”

“It’s red lyrium!!” Varric repeated.

“‘Evil’? I’ve seen pure evil, and it’s not some red mercury knockoff.” He probably meant ‘poisonous,’ but she didn’t have a lot of patience for people who decided on superstition before common sense. She tapped a control on her TACPAD, and scanned the vein.

“UNKNOWN ELEMENT DETECTED--REPORT TO UEG GEOLOGICAL SURVEY”.

Lopez huffed in frustration, and brushed past Varric to continue deeper into the crater.

Cassandra ordered her troops to deploy around the rift. As they moved in, distant echoing voices began to filter in.  
Henry held his bat aloft, and Lopez shouldered her rifle, “We’ve got company.” where the hell is it? Nothing on motion trackers, and I didn’t see anything coming in…

When they reached the massive rip in space and time, the voices became more clear. Deep and threatening, one said, “Now is the hour of our victory. Bring forth the sacrifice.”

Henry snorted at the air, and looked around with a confused wort. Lopez checked her motion tracker again and again, smacking the side of her helmet, but nothing appeared..”  
“What the hell is going on?”

“It is only the echoes of the Fade.” Solas dismissed, when the others expressed similar, yet less surprised-sounding sentiments.

“What exactly are we hearing, then?” asked Cassandra.

“At a guess, whoever created the Breach.”

“Fade?” Lopez inquired, still scanning for targets, “What?”

“The Fade.” Varric said as if it was obvious.

“Whatever. What is it?”

Solas, Gil-Galad, Cassandra, and Varric stopped, looking at her.

“Do you not know of the Fade?” Cassandra demanded, “How can you not?”

“Because I’m not from around here. Sharky, you heard of this thing?”

Henry shrugged, looking at the humans as if they were crazy.

“Everyone knows of the Fade. Even dwarves.” Varric stated.

“Can we get over this?! Someone tell me what it is!”

“It is the world of demons and dreams.” Cassandra said.

“World of demons? I’ve seen those. World of dreams? I believe that’s something the kids are calling imagination.” her sarcasm dripped through the translator, not buying it at all.

Gil-Galad was at a loss for words, “How does one not know of the Fade? It is the land of the gods, for humans and elves!”

“Gil, I only know of one land of the gods, and it certainly has nothing to do with dreams or demons. What does this mumbo-jumbo have to do with freaky-ass voices coming out of the freakin’ ether?!”

“The Fade remembers past history. Where the Veil is thin or damaged, the memories might bleed through.” Solas explained. He watched Lopez with an unsettling level of fascination, his gray eyes piercing. 

She glared at him, and he looked steadily back at her. There was something distinctly odd about him, even without the magic and the pointy ears. The fact that he was the only one to work out her technology did not escape her, and that bothered her, but she hadn’t the time to work out why at the moment.   
The marine kept getting a familiar annoying feeling around him, the same type she’d get around ONI spooks, or the Red Horse’s AI Rebecca. Those who knew more than they let on, but were willing to sacrifice anything, even people’s lives to keep their secrets. He appeared to be harmless at first glance, but all spooks did, like Major Smith. Her leg let out a twinge of pain upon recollection of what the truth had been.

 

More voices could be heard, suddenly growing louder. The group turned to look at the rip, and there was a flash.  
Ghostly forms took shape, of a woman in priestly garb held aloft several meters above the ground, red energy holding her arms out to either side. It must have been this “Divine” the locals were so worked up about.  
Towering over her was a figure, a truly massive creature. Its exact form was unrecognizable, except for its bright red eyes.

Another figure approached, this one as clear as the woman was. It was Gil-Galad!

“What’s going on here?” he demanded, fear in his voice, but challenging.

“Run while you can! Warn them!” the priest cried out.

“We have an intruder.” the massive figure spoke, “Slay the elf.”

There was another flash, and suddenly the figures were gone, everything was back to normal.

Lopez leveled her rifle at the spot the towering figure had once occupied. Henry was glancing around, scanning for targets and finding none.  
“What the hell was that?!”

Cassandra stalked up to Gil-Galad, grabbing him by the shoulders, “You were there! Who attacked? What happened? The Divine, is she…? What was that?”

“I don’t know, I can’t remember!” Gil-Galad cried, his eyes wide with shock and confusion.

“I repeat, what the hell was that?!” Lopez demanded, “That should not happen!”

She glanced at Henry, “You saw that too, right? Please, I need someone who’s not crazy!”

He took a moment to run through what she said, but nodded, “Recording. Hologram.”

“Right!” she hit the side of her helmet in relief and embarrassment at her own foolishness, “Obviously. The projector must be hidden from electromagnetic signatures. But why is it here?”

Henry grunted something that she guessed translated to “god knows”. Or “gods”, given the Covenant religion.

 

Solas raised his voice, “I hate to interrupt, but the rift is not sealed. It is closed for now, however. Temporarily.”  
He pointed to Gil-Galad’s hand, which was glowing and emitting sparks, “I believe with the mark, the rift can be opened and then sealed properly and safely. However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side.”

Cassandra released Gil-Galad, “That means demons. Stand ready!”

The smattering of soldiers, from various factions remaining in the valley, readied their weapons. Lopez yanked the firing bolt of her MA5B back, checked the magazine, and shoved it back in.  
She looked at Henry, “How ya doing, split-lip?”

He growled at her, “Crazy.”

“Which? Me? Them? Or everything?”

He shrugged, “You pick.”

“Had a feeling that would be your answer.”

 

Gil-Galad approached the rift, and held up his hand. Instantly, a channel of green energy shot out as with the other rifts. Crystal began shifting and growing around the portal, as the enemy began to emerge from the other side.  
The big fiery slug-with-arm types came through, but along with them came something that was actually a threat.  
A massive creature, perhaps ten meters high, emerged from the rift.

“Pride demon!” someone yelled.

Lopez began searching around the pockets on her armor, “Now there’s something you don’t see every day. Ugly motherfucker, eh Henry?”

He let out a short laugh, “Almost bad as human.”

“Well, the bigger they are, the harder they fall.” 

 

The pride demon roared, and swatted a handful of soldiers aside, their screams only encouraging it. Arrows and spells impacted upon its hide, doing damage but clearly not enough. It attacked several more soldiers before it spotted Gil-Galad. He was vulnerable, defenseless, unable to cast any spells while sealing the Breach. Terror filled his mind as the beast approached, but he maintained his station. If he was to die, at least he might die saving the world.

The demon lumbered toward its target, but stopped suddenly, and its eyes falling upon a small round green object bouncing in its direction. The object came to a stop at its feet.  
The demon crouched slightly to look at the object, wondering at the small red blinking light. Then the device exploded.

The explosion sent shrapnel into its eyes and vulnerable parts of skin, making it howl with pain as the concussion knocked it on its back.  
The demon had enough vision left to see a rather tall human wearing green armor stroll up, and place a metal device to its head.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

 

The blasts rang out sharply and deafening through the small valley. The pride demon twitched slightly, then lay still. Lopez stepped away, blowing away some smoke billowing from the device she held. She pulled a metal stick out of the weapon, placed it in a pocket, and slid a new one in. It was a smaller version of her large not-crossbow, but potentially even more powerful.

“More demons!” someone yelled, and the strange soldier’s actions were momentarily forgotten as more spells, arrows, and swords were used to effect on several emerging rage demons.

Lopez stepped atop the pride demon’s corpse, and took another spherical object from her pocket. Sliding a small protective tab open, she pressed a button, flicked off a spring-loaded lever, and a light began flashing on the device. The sergeant lobbed it into the demons’ ranks.

The weapon flew through the air, bounced once, and detonated. Their close proximity to one another made them extremely vulnerable, the blast killing nearly half of them and threw more through the air.  
Gore and body parts were scattered all over the place, the demons shrieking with pain even as they continued their attack.

Lopez, with determined yet calm expression, put her long black weapon to her shoulder. She exhaled, and squeezed the trigger.  
The harsh barking of the assault rifle swept across the surviving demons, killing most of the survivors outright and crippling the handful remaining.

Jogging forward, and flicking a control on the side, she squeezed the trigger again repeatedly, shooting the remaining the demons neatly in the head.

The echoes of the firearm’s reports rolled distantly across the landscape. Everyone stared at the sergeant, who calmly drew another metal stick out of a pocket and exchanged it with the one in her weapon.

Gil-Galad’s attention was diverted elsewhere; the heat and energy charge he felt flowing from his hand suddenly increased tenfold, and the green beam connected to the breach suddenly snapped back. His world went black.


	4. Chapter 4

Gil-Galad awoke to a wooden ceiling, and a rather comfortable bed instead of being...well, dead, or in a jail.  
Sitting up slightly, he realized he was in a rather spacious cabin, better than any of the tents he’d lived in back home. Those were tattered, patched together over the years, barely able to keep in heat. This building was much warmer, it might have been possible to go with only two layers if he lived in it.  
There were three very neat holes in the wall above him though, through which wind howled, giving a nice feeling of home. His family’s tent had similar holes made by bandit arrows.

 

He blinked slowly, feeling...way better than he expected. Extremely well, in fact. All his fears it seems were gone, his anxieties and worries...replaced with a feeling of tranquility.

It was enough to make him not yank out the needle he found stabbed into his left arm. Gil-Galad merely stared at it in curiosity. It was held steady with some sort of clear adhesive tape, and a cord of some strange squishy transparent material led to a large bag dangling from a wooden rack. The rack was hastily-made, and shifted slightly as Gil-Galad moved his arm, revealing that wheels were mounted to the bottom.  
The bag it held up was clear and flexible made of the same material as the cord, filled with water by the looks of it. Impeccably made markings were made on the side of the bag, of the same type as on Lopez’s armor. It was also very squishy. It moved when he squeezed it, and he was somewhat surprised at how, like a child, he was just fascinated by the motion.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he also noticed a strange device sitting in the middle of the room. A metal rectangle on a small tripod, with a bright blue light spewing forth from its top. More of the sergeant’s language was printed on the side.

Slowly, he sat up fully, shifting to swing his legs out from under the blankets. Leaning against the side of the bed for support, he was just in time to see a young Elf woman, carrying a small wooden box walk into the room and yelp with fright, dropping the box.

“I-I-I didn’t know you were awake!” she whimpered, dropping to her knees and prostrated herself, “I beg your forgiveness, my lord!”

Gil-Galad was confused, more so at the slow pace of his own mind than her. His whole brain felt fuzzy as it clicked that she was talking about him.

“It’s alright,” he soothed, “No harm done.”

Cautiously, she stuck her head up, “Um...my lord, may I leave? Lady Cassandra and Lady--Sergeant!--Sergeant Lopez instructed me to inform them at once when you awoke. At once!” she emphasized.

Gil-Galad rubbed his face, feeling strange again, and nodded, “Sure, fine, whatever.”

Relieved, she made as if to walk away, but halted, “Um...my lord, if I may be so bold...Lady Lopez also told me to make sure that if you awoke without her, that you would not try to pull the needle out. I do not know why! Medicine is not my area of expertise! I had nothing to do with it!” she added quickly.

He looked down at the needle again, tilting his head, “Can’t even feel it. I'm not even sure if it's really in there.”

“I cannot say, m’lord.” with that, she bolted.

Gil-Galad could barely process the strange behavior, his mind was so muddled. He’d never seen anyone act like that around an elf, what happened while he was out?

“And why do I have a needle in my arm? Why is my mind so muddled? And why am I talking to myself?”

 

Gil-Galad glanced around for his adventuring equipment, wanting to change out of the ill-fitting human bed clothes he wore. He pushed himself up with both arms...but noticed that his right arm didn’t hurt.  
He looked at it, noticing that the shape had changed slightly. The tiny but visible bulge present in his elbow since his first spell-casting accident was gone. Rolling his arm over, bending it back and forth, he was stunned at how it moved! A much wider range of motion than he’d felt since before the accident, and no pain at all!  
As an aside, he also noted that including the feeling of tranquility, there was an additional feeling of great physical wellness. He felt good. Really good. A level of energy after awakening that he hadn’t felt for years.

Finding his clothes, he managed to get pants on before he was stalled by the needle. He puzzled at how to put his shirt on around it. Or was he supposed to go without one?

 

Luckily, the one known as Lopez opened the door. She was still dressed in full armor as he had last seen her, like she expected enemies to burst in at any moment. The sergeant was missing her heavy pack and most of her weapons, both known and unknown types, except the small handheld noisemaker that clung to her side without any visible means. 

Judging by her behavior, she did expect enemies to come in at any moment. She held up a hand when he opened his mouth to greet her, and rubbed at the side of her glass visor. Placing a hand on the noisemaker, she scanned the room.

Seemingly satisfied, she moved forward and flicked the clear bag. Nodding to herself, Lopez spared a glance at the needle, then grabbed his arm gently.  
“Move.” she grated, uncomfortable speaking common. She wasn't using her magic to translate, and seemed to be trying to speak on her own.

“Move what? Where?” Gil-Galad inquired, his mind waking up a little, “What is this thing? What’s it for? Why do I feel so strange? What happened to my arm?”

“Move this.” she said, jabbing a finger into his arm, “Pain?”

“No, that’s what I’m talking about! Why isn’t there any?”

Reaching into one of her armor’s many hidden compartments, Lopez ignored him and withdrew her black charm box, the one that made weird beeping sounds. Running the probe over his arm, she nodded in satisfaction, Lopez said, “Doing well, you are. Healing fast are you.”

“I’m sorry?”

She cursed(judging by the tone) in her own language, “Sorry. You are healing fast. Good.”

“What do you mean? Was I injured?”

To his surprise, she laughed. She turned the box toward him, and he was surprised to see two glowing figures traced on the face of it. They looked vaguely humanoid, but with no features, like a child’s drawing. The one on the left was covered in several red marks, over the right hand, abdomen, the right elbow, head, and upper chest, while the one on the right was nearly clean. Except for the mark on the right hand…

Gil-Galad raised his fist, and opened it to see the green-glowing mark still traced faintly across his palm. “Are these...supposed to be me?”

“Yes. Before and after.” Lopez explained, moving the little rod on her helmet down and switching from spoken tongue to whatever magic she had used before. He noted that she seemed to be using it less often than she had previously.

He furrowed his brow, “But I didn’t break my arm recently, I broke it as a child. What are all these other injuries?...if I’m understanding that's what they're supposed to be depicting. And what does any of this have to do with the needle in my arm, and why I feel so strange?”

“That’s probably the painkillers,” the magic voice explained, “Dulls pain. Your arm wasn’t set properly. Had to break it again to fix it. Used bone medicine to fix it. Also found you were ill. Cured you.”

Gil-Galad blinked, and snorted, “I wasn’t ill.”

“Projected chances of dying from identified illnesses were 50%.”

Gil-Galad raised an eyebrow, but shrugged, “I guess I should thank you. How long was I out?”

“Several days. The Breach is still there, sealed but not completely.”

“Then we must seal it, quickly!” Gil-Galad stated.

Lopez nodded, “Obviously. If I had a--” her own language cut in once again, a single short word, “... I could do it. As is, we’re left with your fairy dust. It seems to be stable for the moment, enough that the idiots started arguing about who’s in charge again. Commander Tightass wanted to see you before we did anything else.”

 

Lopez removed the IV, picked up the tripod mounted light and the bag of painkillers while Gil-Galad retrieved his equipment. When they were ready, Lopez opened the door and stepped outside into the cold air.

A crowd of people was gathered down the street, their voices carried over the wind immediately going silent as they exited the building.  
“Did I mention we’re both being worshipped as the Second Coming?” Lopez asked rhetorically, glaring at the crowd, “Either you, me, or both. Some of them have latched onto me as Jesus Christ or something because I apparently look like their version. That, and you’re an elf and they’re a bunch of racist pricks. On the other hand, some are thinking that regardless of species you’re Jesus anyway, I don’t know why, blah blah God works in mysterious ways blah. Then there’s the ones who think Henry and I are some of your disciples or some bullshit. And then there’s the ones that think we’re both Jesus.”

Gil-Galad barely followed half of that, “They think I’m what?”

A cry of “The Herald of Andraste” met their ears. The crowd beginning to murmur again.

“Yeah, that, whatever that is. Dunno why, everybody here has fairy dust powers, what makes you so special?”

They began walking through the crowd, Lopez walking behind him and keeping a hand on her holster.  
She did not relax until they reached the steps that lead to the upper level, toward the Chantry building.

“Why are you so nervous?” asked Gil-Galad.

“Had to shoot a few people recently. Kept trying to assassinate you. And me. And Henry. People think he’s a demon.”

“Hard to blame them there.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” Lopez muttered darkly.

They reached the Chantry building and proceeded inside. The sound of an argument could be heard at the end of the long corridor, on the other side of the door.  
Something about shipping Gil-Galad off to the capital, failing to seal the Breach, and how it was still all his fault.

When Lopez pushed the large door open, her eyes narrowed at the one Cassandra was arguing with.

“Chain that elf!” Roderick ordered the guards, “We must prepare him for transport to Val Royeaux immediately!”

“Disregard that and leave us.” Cassandra countermanded. Lopez noted that the guards hadn’t moved on Roderick’s words, but immediately jumped to obey her.

“You walk a dangerous line, Seeker.” Roderick snarled.

“How about you?” asked Lopez evenly, “What kind of line do you walk?”

Roderick looked at her, “Is that a threat?” he turned to Cassandra, “Seeker, be reasonable. At least get rid of this one. She murdered several of your soldiers--”

“Who attacked her without reason.” Gil-Galad interrupted, “Though that’s their normal behavior, is it not? Attacking those whose only crime was existing?”

Roderick inhaled, “Seeker, she is an apostate, a murderer, and in the company of demons. Any one of those would be grounds for execution.”

Cassandra glared at him, “Do you wish to arrest her? Be my guest. It was luck we managed to subdue her in the first place, let alone her Qunari friend. He is obviously no demon.”

“And she’s standing right in front of you.” Lopez interrupted coldly, “Hey, golden-forehead, you got any idea what will happen if the people out there see you arresting the Herald of Andraste?”

“Blasphemy! He is no Herald!” Roderick barked.

“For once, I agree!” said Gil-Galad, “By the lost Dales, you honestly cannot believe I am any kind of Chosen One! Do you realize I’m an elf, a Dalish elf?!”

“The Maker works in mysterious ways. We are all subject to His will, no matter who or what we are.” said Cassandra evenly, “You were exactly what we needed, when we needed it.”

“I don’t care what bullshit you people believe, and quite honestly I think this is a whole lot of hooey, but you’ve still got a problem. Those people out there believe he and I are Jesus Christ, and I don’t doubt they wouldn’t like seeing their savior arrested.” Lopez pointed out.

Roderick spluttered, “Silence, apostate!”

“Try and make me...shorty.” Roderick was all too aware of Lopez’s height difference, nearly a foot taller than him.

Paling, he turned to Cassandra again, “Seeker, the elf is no herald. He is still a suspect--”

“In fact he is not. I heard the voices in the temple, the Divine called to him for help.”

“That proves nothing! Why did he survive? Why does he have that mark?”

“How about we focus more on trying to close the giant-ass portal in the sky?” Lopez interjected.

“Yes. And Gil-Galad’s mark is our only hope of closing it.” said Cassandra, stepping back to a shelf behind her and scanning through the books on it.

“That is not for you to decide!” Roderick barked.

Lopez was about to say something, but Cassandra slammed a massive book down on the table.  
“You know what this is, Chancellor?” the Seeker asked cooly, pointing at the tome, “A writ from the Divine, granting us authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn.”

“The what?” Lopez demanded, “The inquisition!?”

Cassandra ignored her, walking Roderick up against the wall, “We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order with or without your approval.”

Lopez’s hand twitched toward her sidearm, a thousand thoughts coursing through her. Looking at Gil-Galad, she snarled, “Did you know about this?”

“Know about what? I just woke up!”

“Great.” That word was a stain upon history. Even a thousand years later the crimes were still remembered. Could she end it now, before it began? She could kill these three, maybe the ones inside the building, and if she stretched it, she’d be able to wipe out the bad guys in the village. But beyond that?

Roderick blustered and snarled, and eventually stormed out in disgust.

Lopez remained silent, watching with pure horror and anger as the others spoke.

Leliana exposited, “This is the Divine’s directive: Rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos. We aren’t ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now no Chantry support.”

Cassandra sighed, “But we have no choice: We must act now. With you at our side.” she looked at Gil-Galad.

“The inquisition of old?” Gil-Galad asked.

““It preceded the Chantry: People who banded together to restore order in a world gone mad.” explained Leliana.

Lopez’s hand slid down to her thigh, “Is that so…?”

‘A world gone mad’ would have a variety of meanings. People having different beliefs than your own, for example.

Cassandra nodded, “Yes. After, they laid down their banner and formed the Templar Order. But the Templars have lost their way. We need those who can do what must be done united under a single banner once more.”

“What will you do?” Lopez asked cooly.

“We will hunt down those responsible, and close the Breach, of course.” Cassandra stated matter-of-factly.

“To what end?”

“We wish to restore order.” Leliana said. Her eyes moved to the sergeant’s twitching hand.

“By doing what?”

“Is there a reason for these questions,” Cassandra growled, “Or are you just wasting our time?”

“Back home, we’ve had an inquisition, more than a thousand years ago. They’re a memory people of my faith would certainly love to forget. They imprisoned and tortured and murdered thousands for little reason. Their job was to make sure everyone converted to Catholicism and stayed that way. If anyone even thought of deviating, they were killed. Is this what you are going to do? Take advantage of the chaos to force everyone to bow down to your Divine?”

The other stared at her with horror.

“What kind of people do you take us for?” Cassandra demanded, “We have done nothing like that! The inquisition is an organization of stability and unity! Not...this insanity you describe!”

“I understand the sergeant’s concerns.” Gil-Galad said, “In fact, my people have suffered through similar trials to the ones she describes. The Exalted Marches on the Dales, the Circle of Rivain. City elves. They forced us off our land, kidnap our children, and routinely attack us. How do we know that’s not what you’re planning?”

“Exalted Marches? Some kind of Crusades?” demanded Lopez.

“You could call it that, I guess.”

Lopez’s hand blurred, snapping her pistol up to aim between Cassandra’s eyes, “You sons of bitches! I oughta kill you all right now!”

A bow twanged to her left, and Leliana was drawing an arrow back, “Do so, and it will be the last thing you do.”

Gil-Galad had his staff up, pointed at Leliana and a ball of energy swirling in his palm.

Lopez was seriously considering pulling the trigger, to wipe this horror from the galaxy once and for all. 

 

In the midst of all this, from out of a side corridor walked a young woman carrying a primitive clipboard. She had dark skin, black hair, and wore a yellow and purple dress.  
She took one look at the tense situation, “Oh, Maker, would everyone please calm down?”

“Hey, Josephine. We're kind of in the middle of something...” Lopez said, speaking to one of the few individuals who had not worshipped, cussed out, or insulted her the past few days.

 

Josephine Montilyet dipped her head a little, and said in rough english, “Hello, Sergeant.” she slipped back into whatever the locals spoke, “I’ve had a rather rough day, actually. Do you have any medicine for migraines?”

“Yeah, in my kit. Can’t get to it right now.”

“I suppose it can wait. What have I missed?” Josephine asked.

She looked at Gil-Galad, and her eyes widened, “Oh! Andaran Atish'an.”

Gil-Galad lowered his staff slightly, “You speak elven?”

“You’ve just heard the entirety of it, I’m afraid.”

Lopez interrupted, “You didn’t miss much aside from him waking up. Found out these guys are a bunch of imperialist, racist, child-stealing murderous thugs. Did you know about this?”

Josephine blinked, “I’m sorry?”

“The Church--Chantry, whatever, has a long history of murder, kidnapping, racism, and arson. Particularly against the people of my friend here. Did you know about this?”

Josephine nodded sadly, “I had heard rumors, read historical texts…”

“That is not who we are anymore!” Cassandra barked.

“Do not patronize us, Seeker,” snarled Gil-Galad, “When I was last among my people, we were camped outside a human settlement, mere months ago. It was normally safe for us. But a group of children who had been playing strayed too far away from camp, and vanished.”

“Accidents happen--”

“So a column of horses fleeing with half a dozen wriggling sacks slung across their backs was just--what?--a coincidence?!”

“You people make me sick.” Lopez snarled, “You know what happened to Henry last night? He came back with a stab wound, and drew the symbol of those who did it. It was the flag of your damned Chantry!”

“Roderick’s men, obviously.”

“Everyone!” Josephine pleaded, “Calm down! Put down your weapons, all of you!”

“Shooting Hitler never hurt anybody.” Lopez grunted, her finger falling within the trigger guard.

“Do that, and fall where you stand!” Leliana drew the string of her bow back further.

“...And prove those fools like Roderick correct! Prove to them that you’re a murderer!” Cassandra argued, “I’m the only reason you haven’t been executed!”

“As if that means anything,” countered Gil-Galad, “You’re only delaying until she’s of no further use, same with me! We’ll be the scapegoats for your next catastrophe!”

Josephine’s voice remained level, “Sergeant Lopez, has Cassandra committed any of the acts that you have described?”

“No, not personally. But she represents--”

“What she represents is different from the individual. Have any of these acts been committed in your presence? Are any of the individuals here responsible for anything so horrendous?”

Lopez silently shook her head.

“Gil-Galad, have any of these atrocities been committed here?”

“Not as far as I know...”

“Have any of you heard the news coming out of the lands around us? With their leadership gone, both Templar and Apostate armies have collapsed, and are participating in those horrid activities you speak of, and worse. The inquisition would not condone nor allow this sort of behavior. In fact, with your leadership, it may be possible to prevent such things, kidnapping and wanton destruction from ever occurring again! Leading the inquisition would also help to dispel the rumors around elves, proving yourself and your people to all of Thedas.”

With reluctance, Lopez lowered her M6D, “Didn’t know someone needed an army to get some basic respect.”

Her hands formed fists, but soon relaxed. “Gil, do what you want. I’m gonna get some air.”

She stormed out the door, slamming it so hard she heard a picture frame fall inside the room. Didn’t know you could do that with stone.

The sergeant quickly crossed the hall, and made it outside, her visor polarizing to deal with the glare outside.

Barbarians. Primitives. Primates. What was she thinking? These people probably still thought bloodletting was a good idea.  
She couldn’t believe she had to save this entire planet with these idiots. Earth could be gone by now, for all she knew, they could be the last humans alive. And they wanted to start a goddamn Spanish Inquisition.  
The only sane people seemed to be Josephine and Gil-Galad. Gil was young, but tough and smart, while Josephine was just about the only person who ever talked to her.  
Where most were afraid of Lopez, the ambassador had made an attempt to reach out and talk to her. She even made an effort to learn some english. The only other person to do so other than…

The subject of her thoughts suddenly called out to her.

“Excuse me, Sergeant.” Solas was coming her way, moving to walk alongside her. Her boots crunched on fresh snow, while he made a much lighter sound in bare feet. She still had no idea how he managed without shoes.   
He spoke in english. Very thickly accented, but still recognizable English. That worried her.  
“I cannot tell if it is a problem with my knowing of your language, but there is a phrase I came across that sounds quite strange.”

Lopez wasn’t exactly in the mood, but the wannabe-spook probably wouldn’t leave her alone otherwise, “Alright, shoot.”

“What does ‘pillar of autumn’ mean?”

Lopez halted in her tracks, staring at him. “Where did you hear that?” She regretted letting him anywhere near that tablet.

“It was something I overheard.”

“From where?”

“One of your machines. It squawked.”

“It means nothing.”

She walked away quickly, but Solas followed her, “I read through your tablet to see if I could find a meaning for the term. Ultimately, it seems to be a name. Is there anything in your society with that name?”

“Nothing. I’ve never heard of it.”

He looked at her, his sharp face impassive but his gray eyes not wavering from hers. “So then you shall have no trouble clarifying if I merely misunderstood something else.”

Lopez stopped, “Listen here, green-white-and-frostbitten, forget this entire conversation ever happened. You shouldn’t even have heard that name.”

He tilted his head to one side, eyes narrowed. “Why is it so important to you?”

Lopez shrugged, “It could be our most sacred religious artifact,” she said. “It could be anything. You don’t need to know.”

His shoulders were tense as he stared her down. “Very well. Then it is of no concern to you that your machine indicated that the ‘pillar’ was in distress?”

She seized the front of his jacket with both hands, lifting him slightly off the ground. He was incredibly light, especially for someone as strong as she was. “How much did you hear?”

His voice was steady as he replied, though a frown appeared between his eyebrows. “I suggest you release me.”

“Tell me. What. They. Said.” 

He met her eyes, and there was a distinctly displeased expression in his face. 

“Tell me, before I break you in half, Spooky,” she told him. 

He contemplated her, before at last answering. “The machine spoke three times. It indicated that a--’distress beacon’ had been located. The name Pillar of Autumn was said twice,” he said. “There was another name that I could not place, that was only spoken once.” 

Lopez released the elf, cursing up a storm, and turning away.

“What am I going to do with you, Solas?” she sighed. Then she registered one of the things he’d said. “Wait,” she looked back at him. “The other name, the one only said once, what was it?”

He tilted his head to one side, examining her as one would examine a bug under a glass. “It was not in words that I understood,” he said. 

“Give me a guess,” she snapped. 

“Why? It appears you do not care for what I know.” 

“It might be important,” she folded her arms. “Maybe even more important than that,” she pointed up at the Breach.

His eyes flicked to the Breach and back down to her face. He paused again, evidently considering his options.

She growled in frustration. “Look, I can’t tell you everything,” she snapped at last. “Alright? I can’t. And you’re not supposed to know about it. But if you tell me, I might be able to figure out more of what’s going on, and that can help you.”

He looked extremely doubtful, but at last said “The other name was ‘Mona Lisa.’” 

Lopez’s hands balled into fists, “Hell.”

She activated her TACPAD, syncing it up with the devices scattered across the village. One directly in front of her in a certain elf’s pack, and several in a tent a few buildings away.  
Stupid, stupid, stupid! It hadn’t been synced in hours. Sure enough, the two closest distress beacons were now accompanied by a third. “UES Mona Lisa”. A small “danger” icon was hovering above it.

If only it knew how right it was.

“Is there a problem?” Solas inquired.

“Solas, you got any family? Anyone far, far away from here?”

She noted something strange in his eyes; he shook his head, “No. Why?”

“A vacation would be nice, wouldn’t you agree? A nice long vacation, away from here?”

Solas furrowed his brow further than it already was, and noted something he had not seen in the sergeant before.  
She was afraid.

“What is coming?”

“Nothing. Why would you think that?” Lopez demanded. He noted her gloves were trembling slightly.

“You are afraid.”

“I lost the ability to be afraid a long time ago, buddy.”

“Ah, so you just happen to possess a nervous tremor when there is nothing stressful at present?”

Lopez looked at her hands, and immediately they stopped trembling.

“Damn it all!”

Lopez began to run down the street, but stopped briefly, “Don’t break that tablet.”

With that, she went sprinting again, running to the tent she shared with a two-meter tall alien.  
Henry had her military-issue tablet on his lab, its keyboard extended, and had adopted a hunt-n-peck strategy for typing. When he heard her approach, he quickly closed it and hid it under a blanket.  
“Zhao?”

The Elite still looked somewhat ridiculous in his parachute snow suit, but its bright white and orange colouration was no more. He had tasked one of the locals with dyeing it proper Covie colors, blue and purple.  
He still looked fat in it.

“Es un problem?” he croaked.

“Oh yeah. New distress beacon. It’s from the Mona Lisa.” Lopez gulped, a sensation she hadn’t felt in a long time reaching her. Nervousness.

Henry paled as much as a war veteran could. “Estas seguro?”

“Si.” she replied grimly.

He roared in rage, the shark equivalent of cursing up a storm. He waved around at the town through the tent walls, and garbled out a long string of words, chief of which were, “They weak! They pathetic! They worthless!”

That was about as polite as the dino would get. The sergeant knew what he meant to say, however. He was trying to say that the locals were helpless against the Flood, that they had no means to contain it or fight it. Given Sangheili emphasis on being tough, his words were probably pretty gentle.  
Lopez nodded, “I know, I know! We need to get out of here! We need to find the beacons, salvage anything we can find, and bomb that damn pod to hell and gone!”

Henry nodded vigorously.

 

There was little Khutan feared in the universe. Not humans, not Jiralhanae, not the rage of the San’Shyuum, there was almost nothing.

Zhao would help eliminate that nothing.

He remembered the words of Special Operations Commander Rtas ‘Vadumee, his report on the Flood before Halo’s destruction. “One single Flood spore can destroy a species.”

Good riddance to humans, but nothing, nothing deserved the Flood.

Especially not Zhao.

 

He blinked, and shook his head to clear out the mental maze. Even she would mock him for being unable to kill a single human, even after all this time.

It was only practical to keep her alive. Yes, practicality.


	5. Chapter 5

Lopez looked about the small shop with disdain. Looking like every fantasy setting idea of a general store, it was quite filthy and poorly made. The building was falling apart, the owner had a servant going about making sure the rats weren’t getting into the goods(for what little that did), and much of the adventuring equipment had clearly been salvaged from dead adventurers.  
She grimaced at a pair of leather boots, tied together and with a smattering of dried blood across them. They sat near an incomplete set of armor. The sergeant could just make out the damage made by the killing blow left on the remaining parts; likely the scavenger had removed the worst of the injured parts, intent on selling the outfit as “used” to the unwary customer.

As if the equipment wasn’t bad enough, most of the food was spoiled; crops that had been taken from abandoned fields or from the dead, and sold at ridiculous prices to take advantage of refugees passing through the area. The stuff should have been left to the rats.

Lopez shook her head, salesman are the same all over.

She glanced over at the counter, really a bunch of barrels with a flat piece of wood on top, where Gil-Galad was bartering for medical supplies and hardtack. Just about the only food that wasn’t spoiled.  
Hopefully they’d be able to get out of here soon. The sooner she and Henry could slip away, the better.

Lopez heard the haggling growing louder and more angry. The little thin man running the shop was driving a hard bargain, and and Gil-Galad wasn’t accepting.

She strode over casually, “Is there a problem here?”

“Yes,” the shopkeeper growled, glancing at her and back at Gil-Galad, “This damn pointy-ears--”

He stopped, his mouth hanging open, as he did a double take of Lopez. “Wait, you’re not a templar! Not again...”

“What gave it away? Literally everything about me?”

She glanced at the meager purchase, “Gil, this stuff is practically worthless. I could eat a stick and get more nutrition.”

“It is hardtack,” Gil-Galad admitted, “but it was the best I could find in this place. He’s charging me 400 copper pieces for it.”

“You’re charging him 400 copper for a couple painkillers and hardtack?” Lopez demanded, looking at the shopkeep.

“My rates are going up, it’s harder to get supplies in.” he explained, not making eye contact.

“I’ll say. You haven’t gotten any new shipments in the past few weeks!” Lopez stepped over to a bushel of apples. Brushing a few aside, she gingerly withdrew a black shrunken husk, insects still clinging to it, “It looks like you turned over all the bad ones in here so no one would notice. Care to explain?”

“I have no idea those were like that!” he blustered, “It must be my servant--”

“The elf girl you don’t let out of your sight, and probably beat on a regular basis? Yeah, she’s obviously the culprit.”

He shrugged, “They’re an irrational species, you know that. They don’t have--”

The shopkeep stopped talking for a moment, watching Gil-Galad bristling. Surprisingly, at least to Lopez, the elf did nothing.

The sergeant shook her head. She would do something.

She reached across the counter, and seized him by the collar, “You are going to accept 50 copper, you racist prick. That’s how much it’s supposed to cost. You will accept that, and we will be on our way, and you better hope we don’t come back, or worse yet, tell everyone about your…”

Trailing off, she noticed a piece of jewelry dangling from the shopkeeper’s neck, among the cloth she clutched.  
“Your…”  
It was a small brass cylinder about three inches long, attached to a string. The bottom end was flat, while the opposite end slowly tapered off into a point. A hole had been bore through its pencil-like tip for the string. She immediately recognized it for what it was.

It was an M118 7.62x51mm Full Metal Jacket Armor-Piercing rifle cartridge. Just like the few hundred left in her pack, just like every other marine in the Corps used.

“Where did you get this?” Lopez hissed.

“A man! A tall man!” the shopkeeper immediately answered, “He had stuff just like yours! Armor, weapons, everything! No helmet! He traded the bullet for some hardtack! Please don’t hurt me!”

“Did he have a symbol like mine?” she gestured to the UNSC logo emblazoned on her chest plate, “What did he look like?”

“Yes! That symbol! He was young, with a shaved head except for one short strip down the center! That’s all I know, I swear!”

Lopez released him, “Which way did he go?”

The shopkeeper pointed.

“Thanks. Gil, pay the man and lets go.”

With a glare at the shopkeep, Gil-Galad slammed down a pack of copper pieces, and quickly caught up to Lopez as she went out the door.

She darted back inside and grabbed the 7.62 necklace, “I’m taking this.”

 

“What did you find out?” Gil-Galad asked as she emerged, surprised to find Lopez was actually smiling a little.

“Someone else crashed on this planet. Not just me. There’s another marine out there! And not just any marine, he’s one of my kids--one of my squadmates, Private MacCraw! Oh, only he would be stupid enough to barter one of his bullets!”

When she looked at Gil-Galad, her eyes were alight with a fire he hadn’t seen often. Whenever Henry had been threatened, he’d seen it. Whenever that fire burned, nothing would stand in her way.

She seized the elf’s arm, “C’mon. We need to get moving.”

They continued down the street, to a previously agreed upon meeting place with the others.

Lopez snorted, “That stuff didn’t actually cost that little, do they?”

“Nope.”

 

They met up with the rest of the group. All were laden with supplies for their journey to Val Royeaux.

“We need to get moving ASAP.” Lopez said, and held up the necklace with the cartridge attached, “One of my marines is out here. One of my squadmates.”

Henry’s expression of surprise turned to a more neutral one, his eyes narrowing.

“Another soldier like yourself?” Cassandra asked, “We could certainly use them.”

“Do you know where they went?” asked Solas.

Lopez pointed vaguely in the direction the shopkeeper told her, “That way, but first we’ve got to wrap up our current quest.”

She hesitated, “There’s something I haven’t told you. Something I was planning on telling you when we got there. Along our route, there’s a lake bay. Lying in it is a UNSC cargo pod, it can give us some transportation.”

“Transportation...horses?” Gil-Galad asked.

“I’m not talking about horses. It contains something that will get us around a lot faster.”

“Are you speaking of a ship? Why did you not tell us of this before?” Cassandra asked.

“It’s not a ship, and I have my reasons.” She checked the map on her TACPAD, “Let’s go.”

 

They walked quickly out of town. Lopez, as always, walked ahead of the others. The benefits of living in a society with a balanced diet. Only Henry ever walked ahead of her, with his longer strides.

Today, he slowed down to walk alongside her. It must’ve been like crawling for him.

“Zhao. You find Marines. You rescue. They kill me, yes?”

Lopez looked down at the road, “Well, maybe not. We don’t have anything against taking prisoners…”

She froze mid-sentence, the obvious hitting her.

“I could put in a good word for you. Get the marines to take you in instead of ONI. You’ll get better treatment from the corps than the spooks. Heck, if worst comes to worst, I could just 'forget’ you existed when it comes time to leave…”

The sergeant trailed off, her thoughts drifting away. She opened up her TACPAD were a map of the country around them was displayed. It was an area of about two hundred square kilometers, documented by her drones, or scanned from local maps.  
There were several icons that sprang up from various sections of the map, detailing cities, towns, villages, mineral deposits, armies, ports, etc.

A handful were larger than the rest, highlighted. Each one had a UNSC logo across it, and on each signature, there was a symbol of a small triangle with an exclamation point inside.  
Lopez tapped one of the icons, making a text bubble flash into existence.  
“UNSC EMERGENCY BEACON: AUXILIARY UNIT IN DISTRESS. REGISTRY--UNSC Pillar of Autumn.”  
This type of beacon was designed for when a ship had been destroyed, and it's assets scattered across the planet. Auxiliary units included dropships, fighters, cargo pods, or lifeboats.  
A few beacons from the Mona Lisa had come down as well, one almost certainly belonging to MacCraw.

 

Khutan’s grasp of written english had improved since the landing, out of necessity. Specials ops soldiers normally had combat harnesses to rely on for translation, committing only to memory that which would avoid stupid mistakes. There was one particularly embarrassing incident he recalled where a team of specialists had been lost because they couldn’t read a human starship’s self destruct countdown.  
There was no hiding the information from him.

There was human military equipment and potentially human stasis units scattered across the planet, carrying soldiers with the rage garnered from the most devastating war the galactic arm had ever seen.

A UNSC detachment would have been bad enough, but Khutan knew the days of organized human resistance were numbered. They would not come for the crashed survivors and leave. They would hold onto any planet they still had, and the equipment and personnel already on the planet would likely make it easier to build a facility.  
Refugees, military units, everyone would be fleeing to this world, virtually undetectable by Covenant forces. Not in the area of known human space, and absent from navigational databases, it would be the ultimate place for them to regroup and take revenge decades later.

He could never leave. He knew the stars around the planet, the geography. If he chose to not do his duty and report, his own people would interrogate him endlessly until they got every scrap of information.  
They might turn him over to the Jiralhanae. Khutan shuddered.

The special operations officer realized Zhao was still looking at him. “What will we do?” he asked.

Zhao made one of the strange human facial expressions that meant they were thinking. She shrugged, “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

She began to walk a little faster, but looked back, “Hey, if it comes to it...I’ll pull the trigger. Right between the eyes.”

Khutan blinked. If he was found with no equipment and shot in the back, he would be branded a coward. In the front was a different story...  
He could hear the tales now, the younglings wanting to hear about the brave Sangheili warrior who faced down the humans with nothing but cloth to protect him. The warrior who was captured through no fault of his own for participation in experiments on the Flood, and who bravely died charging his guards.

 

What did this human know about honor? How did she know?

 

XXXXX

 

The small ocean bay was lined with tall stone cliffs that stood up to either side, while along the center was a steep slope, that led down onto a beach.

In the center of the bay, a few dozen meters from the shore and lodged on a sandbar was the source of the distress beacon. A massive grey metal rectangular box, with the edges rounded off.  
It’s left side was made of titanium, the rest ceramics, and all were scorched by intense heat. Reentry had done some damage. Massive parachutes dangled from the upper corners into the water, two out to sea and a pair crushed under its weight.  
“What is it?” Gil-Galad asked.

“It’s a cargo module.” Lopez stated, grinning, “It should make getting around a little easier.”

 

It would also make finding any lost UNSC personnel a lot easier. She should have done this earlier. There were more and more cryotube beacons popping up on her maps, in addition to MacCraw.  
Something else she hadn’t told the locals.  
There could be dozens of men and women stranded on this planet, scattered all over and unorganized. Soldiers who would be vital in containing the Flood.

Rescue and outbreak containment far outweighed the need to maintain security for a dime-a-dozen cargo pod. While she couldn’t let the locals know much about the UNSC, or even about the Autumn, Lopez figured this little bending of the rules shouldn’t compromise anything.

 

“How could that thing move at all? It’s a giant brick.” Varric scoffed.

Lopez was already headed down the cliff, toward the beach.

As the others followed, more details came into view. A hatch on one of the long flanks, and a massive door on either end of it.

“A cargo module. What is it designed to carry?” Cassandra asked.

“I don’t know, exactly. I know it’s valuable.”

“You don’t know what it holds, but you do know it’s valuable? I have the greatest confidence in you.” deadpanned Varric, and was “accidentally” tripped by Henry. In this case, “trip” meant being knocked over.

Lopez reached the water’s edge, tapping a control on her helmet.

“Can’t wade out from here, it’s too deep. Let’s try and go for the sandbar.”

She made her way around to the shortest distance between the sandbar and the beach, and stepped into the water. Henry gingerly dipped a hoof into the water, and seemed to tolerate the temperature.

Lopez was up to her knees in water by the time she reached the cargo pod, and smirked as she raised a hand to touch it.

She noted Henry was keeping her distance from her, regarding the pod with an odd expression.

The sound of water sloshing signaled the arrival of the rest of the group behind her.

“You said this was a cargo module. Where did it come from?” asked Gil-Galad.

“It came from a ship.”

“A ship?” Cassandra echoed, “This doesn’t look like it’s good for navigating the seas…”

“It’s only a part of it, Seeker.”

“What is the purpose of a ship that can be taken apart like this? Isn’t that somewhat...dangerous?” Gil-Galad asked.

Lopez noted few had asked about her constant comments about space travel. The luddites probably thought she was crazy.  
She replied, “Supplies are really important in space travel, and survivors of shipwrecks need all the help they can get. Just like your ships, ours can be stripped for parts and supplies. Sometimes entire cargo bays can be detached, like this one. It may not look like much, but when it’s integrated into the ship, you can’t tell the difference.”

“What happened to the ship, then?” Solas asked, “It was clearly in distress, if what you say is true.”

Lopez grimaced, “I don’t actually know. It was reported missing a few months ago.”

She was being fully truthful this time. Any information her equipment held on the Pillar of Autumn was covered in black ink. By the looks of things though, she was hit pretty bad and tried ditching cargo and cryo tubes. If that’s true though, why weren't there any lifeboats?

 

“How are these doors opened?” Gil-Galad asked, pointing to the massive blast doors.

“Watch.” Lopez flipped open her TACPAD, and put one hand against the side of the pod. Microscopic circuits in her uniform formed a hardline connection to the container’s systems, a protective measure against remote hacking.

Her TACPAD displayed a loading screen briefly, before displaying the most beautiful sight she could have seen.  
“CARGO BAY 32-A--MANIFEST: X6 M12 FAV(S)”

Dismissing the manifest, a schematic of the cargo bay appeared on the screen, indicating levels of damage and status of certain equipment. She highlighted the hatch closest to them, and tapped the “open” command.

Vibrations reverberated audibly through the pod, making the others step away in fright. Several meters away, a line appeared in the soot and ash coating the hull. An opening began to form, groaning with the exertion. The hatch spilled dust and ash, blackening the water underneath. It split into four segments, which disappeared into the wall around them, revealing a yawning black interior.

Without hesitation, Lopez waded over to it and clambered up into the threshold. “Let’s see if this thing’s still got electrical power…” She muttered, touching the hull again and tapping a control.

A smattering of light strips flickered on across the ceiling, along with strips along the floor, and some along the wall. Instead of the straight lines they were supposed to form, they appeared randomly. It was quickly apparent the pod had had a hard landing.   
Some of the lights dangled from their mounts, lit, but flickering dangerously. Sparks arced from others, while still more were smashed beyond repair.  
Plating was warped or scattered across the deck, the entire place was a mess.

But there was still enough power to see what the pod contained.

Still strapped down, and fully intact, six M12 Light Reconnaissance Vehicles, or “Warthogs” as they were more commonly known, were neatly arranged into cubicles, three to either side of the container.

Lopez gestured to the vehicles. “The Warthog, everyone.”

Varric looked around skeptically, “And how are a bunch of carriages without horses supposed to help? These things must've cost a fortune…”

“Might I assume there’s more to them than meets the eye?” Gil-Galad inquired.

“You may. Give me a second.” She stepped over to the closest one, and leaned into the driver's seat. She tried turning the starter knob, but it seemed to be jammed.

“What does Warthog mean?” asked Gil-Galad, leaning against the hood of the vehicle, “I know of a type of boar with that name…”

“That's exactly what they're named after...C'mon you stupid--”  
The starter knob turned, and the Warthog rumbled to life, coughing like it hadn't been started in a while.  
Gil-Galad jumped two feet in the air and stumbled backward, falling on his rear. Cassandra yanked out her sword on pure instinct, staring at the vehicle with wide eyes. Varric had his crossbow trained on the 'hog, trying to find a weak point.

Solas merely furrowed his brow at the Warthog, “Interesting.”

With a sputter, the speakers came to life. Extremely loud music started playing. It was an easygoing polka, that seemed inappropriate for a war vehicle, but somehow fit the Warthog specifically.  
The locals clamped their hands over their ears, either from the intense volume or hatred.

“What is that blasted sound?!” Cassandra demanded.

“Tejano music!” Lopez stared in disbelief at the dashboard, quickly winding the volume down. “Damn pranksters, someone left the volume turned up all the way!”

Varric took his hands away from his hears, laughing, “Is the big bad Seeker afraid of some drums and a…” he paused, “What were those instruments, anyway? I’ve never heard anything like that.”

“Accordion.” Lopez grunted, and leaned down to hit a control on the floor of the driver's seat.

A pop sounded out, making the group jump as the hood twitched.

Lopez ignored them, and went around to peer at the engine.

Finding the source of the odd sound, Lopez cleared it it, then did a quick inspection of the vehicle.  
The tank was full. Since it was non-corrosive and wouldn't degrade over time, the special non-flammable hydrogen fuel mixture that powered Warthogs could be left in a vehicle for years and it wouldn’t do a thing. The additional fuel containers strapped to the wall of the cubicle were full as well. Lopez pulled off a handful and attached them to the vehicle, to mounts and with duct tape.

The tires were intact, the chassis intact...everything was functional. The M12’s reputation still held up.  
She noted Henry must have had some experience with Warthogs, judging by the look he was giving the M41 Light Anti-Aircraft Guns looming over the jeep.

Lopez clambered up onto the bed, tilting the M41 up and down and left to right. It seemed a little light in weight when she rotated it…  
“Uh oh.”

“Is there a problem?” asked Gil-Galad, standing beside the Warthog.

The sergeant looked down, the stand for the weapon was intact...but it was missing the ammunition canister normally attached.

“That depends. Do you see any boxes around here with ‘12.7x99mm Armor-Piercing’ written on the side?”

He looked at her blankly.

“Right. Don’t read english. Shit.”

Solas spoke up, “I don’t see anything like that. Is there a problem?”

Lopez grimaced, “That’s what I was afraid of. All these M41s are completely useless.”

She pushed it out of her way, and hopped down, “To be expected, I guess. SOP’s to store ammo in the armories...I was hoping someone would be lazy enough...damn it.”

Moving to a locker set into one section of the cubicle, she pulled out a maintenance kit.

The rest of the group was poking around the rest of the compartment, but Henry was still hovering nearby.

“Split-lip, get over here.”

She took a wrench and began turning the bolts that held the LAAG to the floor, quickly pulling it loose. Grabbing one side, Lopez gestured for Henry to do the same, and lift.  
“Pick it up--watch it, watch it! We only have six of these things!”

They lowered it to the ground, and Lopez went back to the place it had been. She pushed the exposed socket back down into the vehicle, and closed a panel over the socket. The Warthog had quickly been converted to a flatbed vehicle.

“Alright, everyone!” she called out, “In the glove box of each of these things--the box on the other side from the steering wheel, there’s a box with some survival gear in it, and a pistol, looks like mine, I need all of them over here ASAP.”

As the others followed her instructions, she went around to each of the Warthogs, removing a single piece from each of their engines and the firing pins of each of the LAAGs.   
Warthogs didn’t have keys to steal, but they did have starters anyone could use. Now, with the parts removed, there was no way anyone could drive off with them or use the guns. That is, if they could find any ammo, or proper containers, or figure out how to fit the ammo into ammo belts, or fit them into the containers, or...just about any part of their operation.

Gathering medical kits and a smattering of other gear, all was piled in the Warthog’s bed. Lopez opened one of the pistol cases, and examined the sidearm. Standard issue in case the drivers lost their service weapons.  
She grimaced, all M6Cs. Utter crap against Covenant compared to the M6Ds, but they were good enough against humans, and they could share their magazines.

Lopez gathered all the equipment into a bag, removed the firing pins of the sidearms, and strapped the bag down in the center of the Warthog’s bed with bungee cables.

She climbed into the driver’s seat. “Prepare to be amazed. Back away everyone!” the sergeant said dryly, and tapped the accelerator.

The Warthog scooted forward out of its alcove, purring satisfyingly as it came to a halt in the center of the bay.  
The others, with the exception of Solas and Henry, stared wide-eyed and with their mouths hanging open at the motion of the vehicle.  
Lopez rolled her eyes, “I don’t have time for this.” she just couldn’t be bothered having to listen to the usual spiel about witchcraft and shock that it moved, “Let’s just accept that this thing exists, okay? Okay.”

 

Outside, the roar of an engine filled the sea bay, and the Warthog shot out like a rocket. It slammed into the sandbar, sinking somewhat, but quickly using its inertia to make it to a solid surface. Not that it would sink if it hadn’t, the jeep was built to go over thousands of different types of terrain.

Lopez hopped out of the Warthog, patting it affectionately, “Okay, Henry takes the passenger seat, everyone else in back. Cassandra, you sit with Varric. Solas and Gil, figure it out.”

“I must sit with him?” Cassandra demanded.

“Hey, Seeker, I don’t bite.” Varric said, leering at her.

“Henry’s the only one I trust not to touch the throttle. And if you’re not happy with the seating arrangements, I will personally move your seat off the ‘hog, onto a pelican, and into the sun! Am I clear on this?!”

“Is that it, or are you just mad she didn’t like the music?” Gil-Galad asked, trying to hide his amusement.

“If you’re done being a smartass, I’d appreciate it if you’d get in the damn jeep.”

 

Duct tape helped to attach all their packs and belongings to every available space, including the sides.

Once that was done, Henry immediately clambered into the vehicle, making it creak and lean in his direction.  
“What do you eat, four-jaws?” Varric snorted, wisely making the comment out of the Elite’s reach.

“I’d advise you not to tease the seven-foot-tall Sangheili special operations officer,” Solas said, “He is much more intelligent than you give him credit for.”

Lopez looked at him, “Wait, you know his rank? How?”

“How else?”

“So you can understand him?”

Solas tilted his head, “Somewhat. His tongue was made for a race with four jaws. I’ve spoken to him several times. Haven’t you noticed?”

Lopez stared at him for a moment, but shook her head. She had no response. He got spookier all the time--she hardly knew anyone who could wrap a head around Sangheili words. 

Cassandra reluctantly climbed into the bed of the Warthog, with her back to the back of the driver’s seat. Gil-Galad took the corner with his back to the passenger seat, so Varric and Solas were forced to occupy the other two corners.

 

Lopez jogged back to the Autumn’s cargo module, closed the hatch, turned off its systems, and made her way back. Leaping into the driver’s seat, she yanked the throttle back into “drive”, and stomped on the accelerator.

The tires spun for a moment before finally catching, speeding up the hill.

Engine roaring, the wind whipping by, Lopez turned the radio back on, releasing the tejano music into the air.

She ignored the cries of distress that could barely be heard over the wind.

This was Lopez’s territory, the locals knew nothing of it, opposite the norm, and she was in total control for once. They reached the dirt and stone road that ran through the land, and Lopez turned onto it. With no speed limit, and the road stretching far into the horizon, the sergeant grinned and pushed the accelerator all the way to the floor.

For one brief moment, Sergeant Lopez didn’t have a care in the world.

 

XXXXX

 

In a day they crossed a distance that would have normally taken them a week, at best.

 

For some reason, whenever they spotted a village, there was a crowd of people that gathered, that would quickly devolve into a riot by the time it left the horizon.

Unbeknownst to them, the locals were having a bit of a heated debate.

 

“It’s a demon!”

“No, do you see? The Herald of Andraste?”

“Which one, the woman or the elf?”

“Whichever! It’s taken control of them!”

“No, they’ve tamed the beast! They ride it like a horse!”

“But the Herald of Andraste would never even conceive of such a thing! They must not be the heralds!”

“That proves the elf doesn’t have the power to close the breaches!”

“What does that have to do with anything!?”

“Shut up, I’ll kill you!”

“Couldn’t we just beat them up?”

“No, they must die!”

“Seems a little excessive…”

 

Their job wasn’t to deal with religious disputes, however, no matter how ridiculous they quickly became.

 

XXXXX

 

They reached the Val Royeaux outskirts. They found themselves bribing a kindly old farmer who wouldn’t ask questions about the snorting metal beast in his barn. They also found themselves in a bit of an argument.

“...And why do I have to do this?” Varric asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Because you’re completely and utterly superfluous. I don’t even know why you’re here.” Lopez growled, “You were useful when we didn’t have any soldiers who could fight something more impressive than a sponge, but now? What use are you?”

“Good company?”

“Not really. Your voice is grating on my ears, and I think Henry’s too. Just guard the damn jeep!”

“You’re the bastard qunari offspring from beyond the sea with untold magical abilities, why don’t you figure something out?” he snapped.

“Because the car alarm won’t scare them off forever. And I don’t want to have to come back and find my ‘hog on fire!”

“Granted, no one wants that, but why can’t four-jaws do it?”

“Because, he’s not completely useless, you numbskull!” Lopez snarled, “He has more advantages than a single solitary piece of trash!”

 

The rest of the group took a step back, fearing what may come from insulting Varric’s crossbow.

Gil-Galad attempted to intervene, “Uh...Sergeant, if I may suggest a compromise--”

Cassandra shook her head, “What compromise? She’s right. He may have been useful once, but now his place is back in Haven, at best.”

“Hey!”

“I don’t know if your advantages are necessarily unique, I’m afraid to say.” Solas said.

“You can kiss my--”

“Solas, don’t help.” Gil-Galad moaned.

“Thank you, your worship!”

“Varric, you’re not helping either.”

 

Henry rubbed his face, grunting something involving “blasted vermin” and how they make road trips even worse.

The sergeant was not willing to let the matter drop, “What’s the point of your crossbow, anyway? Jesus tap-dancing Christ, that thing’s a maintenance nightmare!”  
She pulled out her M6D, “This thing is all-weather, all environments, works in space, works in zero gravity. Yours barely works in cold weather, let alone rain. A matchlock was pretty bad, but way less complicated. And probably more powerful.”

Varric bristled at the second insult to his crossbow, “Well, we can’t all be some bastard qunari offspring from beyond the sea. Or wherever place you come from!”

Gil-Galad stepped between the two, awkwardly holding them apart, “Both of you! Be quiet! You are acting like children!”

He took a deep breath, “I’m not taking anyone’s side here, but Varric, you must stay behind to guard the carriage.”

“But--”

“This is the Templar capital, is it not? They won’t take too kindly to anyone who’s not a human!”

Cassandra opened her mouth, but Gil-Galad shook his head at her, “Seeker, just look around when you get in the city. As I was saying, Varric. I can get by on my reputation, sort of, Lopez looks vaguely humanoid--”

“Up yours, Gil.”

Gil-Galad stopped, rolling his eyes slightly “You’re right, I’m sorry. That was rude. Anyway Varric, neither you nor Henry can pass as human.”

“You do know that humans can grow to only be this short, right? I could pass as one of them!”

“RIght, like any Templar is going to believe that. Now, we need the both of you to stay here, partly for your own safety, and in case we need rescuing.”

Varric thought for a moment, then shrugged, angrily. He seemed to be giving her the silent treatment.

Lopez furrowed her brow, but grew angry again, conclusions jumping in her mind. She grabbed him by the collar, “Shorty, if you damage or lose one piece of this piece of United Nations Defense Force property, I will personally rip your lungs out and sell them to pay off the damage.”

He pushed her arms away, doing nothing but glaring at her.

Gil-Galad tapped Lopez on the shoulder, “I think it would be best if we departed, wouldn’t you agree, Sergeant?”

Lopez glared down at Varric a moment more, then turned around.

“Shark boy, you get all that?”

The Elite glared at her, but nodded.

“Keep his filthy mitts off anything in that ‘hog, got it?”

He nodded again, gesturing for her to move out the door.

“Alright…”

The two elves and two humans departed.

Varric scowled at the closing barn door, and turned to look at Henry.

He was across the building, leaning against a post, but still had to look down to deliver a disgusted expression.

Varric had always noted that. Every time the Elite looked at something that looked vaguely human, he looked disgusted.  
Never knowing when to leave buttons unpushed, he strode over to the Elite, “So...you like stories? Music?”

The Sangheili warrior made a gesture Varric hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t the replicated middle finger gesture, it was a thumb extended on one side, and the finger on the opposite side raised.  
It probably held the same meaning.

 

XXXXX

 

The city was still in mourning, or so Cassandra said. Aside from a handful of bells, there was nothing unusual that would indicate that. People were still going about their lives, still going to work.

Lopez didn’t really care about them. Both she and Gil-Galad were looking around at the architecture, the parks and shorefronts.  
The sergeant’s home of New Constantinople had museums devoted to the city of Istanbul back on Earth, with images and holographic scale models of what the city looked like at various points in history. While the city of Val Royeaux was certainly a different type, it was no less impressive than Istanbul at its height in ancient times.  
It was massive, jam packed with nearly half a million people, a center of commerce and culture and industry. Utterly mind-blowing that these people could manage such a feat, Lopez thought, then again, so did Istanbul.

Certainly it was awe-inspiring, but to Lopez, it was spectacular in a quaint-tourist-novelty kind of way.  
Her scans dug up nothing, both from her uniform’s sensors and the drone. There was no trace of UNSC IFF tags.

The novelty lasted until they reached a more central area, a trade square. According to Cassandra, it was where the nobles tended to hang out, and...whoever it was they were looking for was located.  
They were walking along a stone footbridge to the square, which offered a great view of the ocean bay to one side, and the city on the other. Given that there were so many gates along the bridge, it was quite obvious most people weren’t allowed access.

A pair of nobles coming the opposite direction spotted them, and froze, their eyes fixed on Lopez and Gil-Galad.  
They looked at each other, back to the elf and human, then began screaming. They sprinted off back the way they had come.

“And...Golden-forehead’s bullshit has reached here already.” Lopez growled, setting her hand on her sidearm.

“We don’t know how many may have heard his lies, or even believe it.” Gil-Galad pointed out, “We have to talk to them anyway.”

“Why? Aren’t they the guys who hate magic?” Lopez inquired, “I don’t think we need funding this badly.”

“We are talking to the Chantry, not the Templars. We need all the advantages we can get.” Cassandra said, “And to dispel what Roderick has said about us.”

Lopez rubbed her face, but continued walking.

 

They passed through yet another gate, into a corridor lined with statues of people Lopez couldn’t be bothered to read their plaques about.  
A figure came down to meet them, dressed in green armor, and a hood of the same color. One of Leliana’s agents.  
She came to a halt before them, and spotted Gil-Galad and Lopez.

The agent was completely out of breath, but sank to a knee, “My lord and lady Herald!”

Lopez rolled her eyes, and stepped forward, pulling the agent’s arm up, “C’mon, get up. This is demeaning. He’s the inquisition’s leader or something, and I’m a sergeant. We’re not lords, or heralds.”

The agent stared at her, but stood as requested.

Cassandra glanced at Lopez with an odd expression, then looked back at the agent, “What have you found?”

“The Chantry Mother awaits you, but...so do a great many Templars.”

The holster at Lopez’s side popped open, and she raised her M6D Magnum, pointing it straight up but at the ready.

“There are Templars here?” Cassandra demanded.

“People seem to think the Templars will protect them from...the Inquisition.” the agent winced as she spoke, “They’re gathering on the other side of the market. I think that’s where the Templars intend to meet you.”

Gil-Galad looked down at his boots, rubbing his forehead with both hands, “Fools.”

Cassandra sighed, “Only one thing to do then.”

Lopez checked to see there was a round in the chamber, and made sure her machete was sharp.

 

They entered the marketplace, the Summer Bazaar it was called. Stores and merchants were scattered through the area, looking for customers, but not audibly extolling their wares. The clerks were all keeping an eye on a crowd gathered on one side of the market, beyond some sort of gazebo.

They reached the back of the crowd, and pushed further into the center, finding them centered around several people in Chantry priest garb, and several soldiers in goofy plate armor, on a small wooden stage.

One of the priests, a woman dressed in the same manner as Justinia had been, must have spotted Lopez from her height. She stepped forward, raising her hands, “Good people of Val Royeaux, hear me!”

Her voice carried well, considering that it was without the aid of any sort of speaking trumpet. Lopez noted that somehow, through the translator, she had a French accent.

“Today we mourn our Divine, her naive and beautiful heart silenced by treachery.”

Allowing the crowd to mutter somewhat, she continued, “You wonder what will become of her murderer. Well, wonder no more!”

The mutterings grew louder, and the priest gestured to Gil-Galad and his companions, her voice hardening, “Behold! The so-called Herald of Andraste! Claiming to rise where our beloved fell.”

“How refreshing. She only thinks Gil is Jesus and not me.” Lopez rubbed the bridge of her nose, looking down at the ground.

“We say this is a false prophet! The Maker would send no elf in our hour of need!”

Gil-Galad cried, “Enough! We came here only to talk!”

“It’s true! The Inquisition only seeks to end this madness before it is too late!” Cassandra said.

 

Something got the priest’s attention out of the corner of her eye, and she smiled, “Ah, but it is already too late!”

She pointed to a unit of Templars who appeared from another part of the market. They stomped angrily toward the stage.  
The priest stepped back to allow them to climb the stage, “The Templars have returned to the Chantry! They will face this ‘inquisition’ and the people will be safe once more!”

“I thought they were already part of the Chantry.” Lopez whispered to Solas, “What about her guards? Did I miss something?”

 

“There is a large schism,” Solas explained softly. “The Templar faction broke away from the Divine when she made decisions they did not approve of regarding the mages.”

The priest was slightly dismayed when the lead Templar, somebody significant apparently, walked right on past her.  
As she watched him go by, another Templar stepped up behind her. He clocked her on the back of the head. She pitched forward, and lay on the ground moaning gently.  
Her supporters and escorts all recoiled, and one of the guards in Templar armor reached down to help her.  
The leader of the second group, with a face that was poorly shaved, held the guard back. “Still yourself, she is beneath us.”

“Was just about to do that myself.” Gil-Galad commented, a little too loudly.

The poorly-shaved Templar caught the words, “As if I would do anything for your pleasure.”  
He walked off the stage, his footfalls heavy from his armor.

Cassandra tried to follow him, “Lord Seeker Lucius, it is imperative that we speak with--”

The man did not look at her, “You will not address me.”

Cassandra halted in dismay, “...Lord Seeker?”

He finally stopped, “Creating a heretical movement, raising up a puppet as Andraste’s prophet…” the Lord Seeker finally locked angry eyes with her, “You should be ashamed.”

Lucius raised his voice, “You should all be ashamed! The Templars failed no one when they left the Chantry to purge the mages!”

“Purge?” Lopez hissed at Solas, “What the hell does he mean? Some sort of ethnic cleansing crusade? No, I forgot, of course he does!”

Lucius pointed at Cassandra, “You are the ones who have failed! You who’d leash our righteous swords with doubt and fear! If you came to appeal to the Chantry, you are too late. The only destiny that demands respect here is mine!”

“Then why are you here?” Gil-Galad inquired.

He paused briefly, as if he didn’t know himself, “That is of no concern of yours.”

The Templar drafted from the priest’s service stepped up, “Uh...Lord Seeker, if I may...what if he was really sent by the Maker?”

“You are called to a higher purpose. Do not question!” Another Templar barked.

Lucius smirked, “I will make the Templar Order a power that stands alone against the void.” He turned to look at Gil-Galad, and pointed to himself, “We deserve recognition, independence! You have shown me nothing! And the inquisition...less than nothing!”

He raised his voice again, “Templars! Val Royeaux is unworthy of our protection! We march!”

He led his troops away, toward the gate out of the marketplace.

“Good riddance.” Gil-Galad snarled. Templars were most hated among the elves, being the ones who took great pleasure in “saving” mage children from their families.

“Has Lord Seeker Lucius gone mad?” Cassandra wondered, gesturing at the Templars’ backs.  
“He’s practically a Nazi. Crazy’s in the job description.” Lopez said, “Weren’t we here to talk to some different Nazis?”

 

Lopez didn’t really pay much attention from that point on. She caught something about the successors to the successors of Justinia were dead, and the remnants were busy squabbling amongst themselves as to who would be the next Divine.  
Somehow that roughly translated to mean this whole journey had been made worthless.

Lopez rubbed the bridge of her nose, “You mean to tell me, that the hydrogen I burnt getting here, the ammo I used, and the time we wasted getting here, was all to affirm something golden-forehead explained weeks ago!?”

“That about sums it up.” Gil-Galad grunted, as annoyed as she was, “This could have been accomplished with a messenger.”

“We didn’t know this would happen--” Cassandra protested.

Lopez shook her head, “Yeah, yeah we did. Even when a pope dies of natural causes, without the line of succession blown to atoms, the people next in line still fall into utter chaos. Now...why were we here again?”

“To get help to seal the Breach.” Cassandra grunted.

“Right. Okay. I’ve got something better.”

Lopez pulled out her tablet, and opened a map. She pointed at a grouping of the UNSC icons. They floated in the center of Lake Calenhad, near Redcliffe.  
“First of all, There’s a couple of cargo pods in this ocean--”

“Lake.”

“...In this lake. Now, I hoped it wouldn’t come to it, but we have no other option. One of them will contain a weapon that could seal the Breach pretty easily. Knowing the Navy, there’s probably a lot of them. However, I’ll need help...”

She grimaced, “Okay, does everyone remember that I came here in a small pod? There are others which are used aboard our ships. When in distress, they launch and carry sleeping crewmembers away to safety.”

“Why are they sleeping?” Solas inquired.

“They’re not actually not sleeping,” Lopez explained hurriedly, “It’s to save on provisions. It’s called cryo stasis. They’re sleeping...but not.”

“What are they doing, then?”

“It’s an enchanted sleep! They don’t age, don’t need to eat or anything! It’s so they don’t waste supplies on long voyages. They could sleep for a thousand years and come out as fine as they started.”

A strange expression flickered across his face for a fraction of a second, and disappeared. He furrowed his brow, “What are they called?”

“Cryo chambers, cryo pods, freezers. Or the admiral’s frosty bed.” Lopez snickered at that last one.

“...These cryo chambers, what’s the longest anyone’s been inside one?”

Lopez shrugged, “I know about one guy who got a commercial stasis pod back in the late 24th century, came out in the 25th to make a company selling domestic robots. Then there was a couple who went into stasis around the same time until they could have their honeymoon on an interstellar cruise liner.”

“How does this help us?” asked Gil-Galad.

“The Pillar of Autumn may not have ejected life boats, but they certainly dumped cryo tubes, as did the Mona Lisa.”  
She pointed at a handful of icons on land, “These landed in pretty rocky terrain a big ship couldn’t land in. They must be small, and therefore cryo pods.”

“Why couldn’t they be life boats?” Gil-Galad asked. He still didn’t quite understand or believe that the sergeant had come from the stars.

“Because life pods carry people who aren’t on ice, and they would have contacted me by now.” Lopez looked off to one side, “Surely, they would have.”

“Why wouldn’t the sleepers contact you?” Cassandra asked.

“Because they’re asleep!”

“And why wouldn’t they wake up?” Gil-Galad asked.

“Because there’s a magic spell that prevents them from waking up unless an appropriate counterspell can be made, or, if the ship is in distress, needs someone to wake them up.”

“...and they provide a counterspell?”

“Well, sort of, when the pods are ejected from ships, and someone comes along, and pushes a button that wakes them up. Doesn’t have to be someone special--”

Lopez stopped speaking and halted in her tracks. “Oh hell.”

 

XXXXX

 

Hundreds of miles away, in the middle of a Ferelden forest, in a place few could put on the map, several Templar soldiers were inching their way toward a potential rebel mage outpost.   
The previous night, during a thunderstorm, there had been several streak of light like shooting stars over a nearby village. They came down in the forest. While shooting stars landing was not unusual, what was unusual was the lack of thunder and a rumble in the ground.

The Templars were passing through the region, and had stayed in the village for the night. The terrified peasants demanded that they investigate, concluding it was the work of heretical mages.

Reluctantly, the Templars agreed. They made their way through the woods, expecting an ambush at every turn. The trails were unkept, only vague outlines made in the dirt.

“Where are their sentries?” one Templar whispered, his sword raised and held tightly in both hands, “If this is supposed to be one of their camps…”  
“They are mages, they know nothing of war.” another said dismissively.

“Then why have we still not won?” a third murmured.

“Quiet.” Their leader snapped, “I think I see something.”

Light pierced the thick forest canopy up ahead, signaling the existence of a tiny clearing, and the Templar soldiers moved quickly and quietly behind cover.  
The leader squinted, shading his eyes, but still couldn’t see anything substantial. His eyes had never been particularly strong. The scent of something burning was carried on the wind, and a flickering orange light could be seen near the clearing.

He whistled to the first soldier, and waved for him to scout ahead.

The Templar grimaced fearfully, his face thankfully hidden behind his helmet, and walked forward.

As he approached, he realized there were several fires, not just on the ground but among the trees as well. He hurriedly put out those he could reach, thankful for the rain the previous night that had kept them from spreading.  
The clearing looked like it had been expanded recently, and a large shape about half the size of a horse-drawn cart lay to one side of it. It must have fallen from up above, perhaps the branch of a larger tree.  
But there were no trees that big around him, he realized, what was it?

The Templar crept closer, finding the object to be made of a strange form of metal. It was leaning toward him, against several trees. He realized that the side facing him was blackened by some sort of intense heat, but he could just make out that it was originally intended to be a shade of white.

His curiosity was further aroused by the cords that were connected to the corners, tangled up in the tree and stretching into the canopy above.  
The Templar moved into the clearing, around to the object’s other side, and found more of the cord, attached to the corners touching the ground, lying on the forest floor.  
It wasn’t rope, or vines, or any material he knew of. It was a black and stretchy material, that would not rip no matter how he tried. The cords wound their way up to a pair of tattered sheets, hung on the trees on the other side of the clearing. Again, they were made of foreign materials, an extremely durable cloth.

The Templar turned about to look at the object again, and jumped at what he saw.

The other side of the object wasn’t pure metal. It was a window made of glass, or some other translucent material. The window swept seamlessly into the metal, orange and black stripes lining the border between the two.  
But that wasn’t what drew his attention.

Inside the object was a human woman! Fit, well-fed, with dark skin and dark hair, and looked as though she were asleep. He was also quite aware of the fact that she wore no clothing at all.

The inside of the window was covered with significant frost buildup, leaving only her upper body exposed. The air inside looked frigid, thick gases moving around, and even the woman herself was covered with minute traces of frost. It was a warm day, why was it so cold?

He’d seen frozen bodies before, and assumed at first that she was dead.

But her skin wasn’t completely blue or purple, and it didn’t look entirely frozen. There was something off about it he couldn’t quite put his finger on.  
As he watched, the air inside the object passed by her open mouth...and shifted ever so slightly.  
His eyes widened in realization. She was alive!

The Templar called out, “Hey, I need help over here! There’s a woman trapped inside this thing!”

He dropped his sword and grabbed one side of the window, along the yellow and black border, pulling with all his might.  
The others arrived quickly, all talking at once as they pointed at the object.

“Is she a demon?”

“Is she a mage?”

“What is going on?”

“I don’t know what it is, or who she is, but she’s trapped in there!” The Templar cried, “Give me some help!”  
Two of the others grabbed the same side he did, and when that would not budge, more grabbed the other side and the bottom of it. It still refused to move.  
Desperately, they pounded on the window, yelling to try and get her to wake up, but she was in some sort of enchanted sleep.  
Their fists and sword pommels, and even several shoulders refused to break the window. It felt more like steel than glass.

The first Templar released his hold on the object and punched the side in frustration.

“Maybe we could find a blacksmith,” the leader proposed, “They might have the tools to--”

He was cut off by a small whirr sound. Under his hand, a small panel had slid aside, revealing a dark mirror-like surface.  
Before he could touch it, it lit up with blue light.

The leader jumped back, startled, as the surface began blinking rapidly, shapes and images in a language he couldn’t read(not that he could read that well to begin with) flashing by with each blink.  
Eventually, it stopped, several shapes forming themselves on the surface. One large green circle, around which the other shapes were arranged, drew his attention, flashing over and over with a single word displayed in the center.

“It’s some sort of magic charm! Don’t touch it!” another Templar hissed, “She must be a mage!”

“Or they could have trapped her in there!” the first Templar snapped back.

The leader squinted at the surface, tilting his head slightly to see the incomprehensible letters and symbols.  
He reached out his hand, despite the protests of his men, and tapped the green circle.

The screen disappeared, and a modification of that single word took its place. They all took several steps back, the object spouting a ding sound every other heartbeat. A monotone voice began speaking, in a tongue none had heard before. They all made the sign of the Chantry at the sound, the voice unnatural and disturbing.

The object suddenly hissed, jets of gas escaping from each of the corners of the window. The Templars sprang back in alarm and drew their swords. Inside, the woman’s skin color returned to normal, the frost dissipating rapidly.

The mirror on the side displayed another word, and the window swung upwards on a hinge.  
The air that met them was chilly, but more like a cold spring morning rather than the blistering winter freeze they expected.

The Templar leader and the first Templar rushed forward, catching the woman as her knees gave out and she slumped downwards.  
The rest of the group stared at the impression she left on the inside of the object, a perfect match to her body shape that was quickly fading away.

The leader pulled off his cloak, wrapping it around the woman, “It’s alright, you’re safe now.”

The woman seemed stunned for a moment, leaning against him for support.

The first Templar kneeled down to look her in the eye, “Miss, what’s your name? Where are you from? Who did this to you?”

She didn’t answer, shaking her head and holding it painfully.

Abruptly, she gagged, letting out several dry heaves. She hunched over, and vomited a clear liquid across the forest floor. It didn’t look like digested food, water, or normal bodily fluids, it was something else.

Immediately, several of the others brandished swords at her, “She’s a demon!”

“No, that’s not what demons do!”

“How do you know?!”

“Don’t be an idiot,” the man who’d given her his cloak said. “She’s just ill--are we going to start attacking sick people, now?”

The woman coughed and gagged, mumbling to herself, and by the tone, was cursing a lot.

“Miss, are you alright?” the Templar asked.

She looked up at him, squinting, and spoke in awe and surprise, with words no one could understand, similar to the object’s language.  
Then she passed out.

The leader picked the woman up in both arms, “We must get her back to the village.”

“But sir, what if--”

“We don’t know anything!” the first Templar barked, “She’s a human being! We are obligated to help her!”

The leader nodded in agreement, “You two, follow us. The rest of you, fan out and look for more of these things. There may be more people trapped inside.”


	6. Chapter 6

The journey to Val Royeaux wasn’t as meaningless as previously thought. They encountered a messenger from the leader of the rebel mages, Grand Enchantress Fiona. The messenger had somehow caught up with them, and explained that the mages wished to form an alliance.  
A no-brainer of course, choosing between them and the Nazis, known hereabouts as Templars. Gil-Galad’s group planned to make a stop and check in with Haven, then drive to Redcliffe where the mages had their headquarters.

Before they left the city, Gil-Galad, Solas, and Cassandra took a detour to investigate something or someone, some side quest or another Lopez couldn’t be bothered to remember the exact details of. Either the sergeant forgot them deliberately, or by accident, it made no difference.  
All she could recall was that they came back with quite possibly the most annoying elf she’d ever met. An archer named Sera.

She was some rogue-type, armed with a bow and little else, irregular military at best, at worst a partisan-type. She knew her stuff, but was extremely annoying. She kept staring at Lopez when they first met.

“That’s some nice armor you have. Dwarven?” she asked, taking in every little detail.

“It’s human. UNSC Marine Corps.”

“Huh. Never seen anything like that. What’s a ‘youn-see Marine Corps’?”

“U-N-S-C. United Nations Space Command, it’s an acronym.” Lopez explained, “The Marine Corps is a branch of the UNSC Defense Force.”

“Right, okay, but what’s a marine?”

“Naval infantry, we fight on ships or on...on land.”

“There’s a name for those people?” Sera asked, “Huh. What is all your stuff made of?”

She peered at all the curious pockets with no visible clasps, the perfectly-fitting nature of the outfit, and how finely made it was. Not even the Dwarves could make something so perfect.

“I’m afraid that’s classified.”

“I’ll figure it out.”

 

After introductions had been made, Lopez had started the Warthog and prepared for an accusation of witchcraft.  
To her surprise, Sera grinned, “Wow, that’s great! No steam, no smoke, no rotten eggs! How fast does it go?”

Lopez looked at Henry beside her, who shrugged in confusion.

The marine turned back, “Excuse me?”

Sera gestured to the vehicle, “That’s a Qunari thing, right? Or Dwarven? Those big black things with all the metal noise! Looks a lot better than the others.”

Lopez shook her head, “No, it’s a jeep. UNSC property. Human-made.”

“Eh, whatever. Still looks nice. What makes it go?”

“Classified.” Lopez said sharply.

Sera stepped around to the driver’s side, “I’ll figure it out. Ooh, look at all the shiny things!”

 

Thus began Lopez’s constant monitoring of all her equipment. Sera had been eying just about everything in the vehicle, and the marine’s armor, and had kept up incessant questions the whole ride down toward Haven. She struck the sergeant as one you would keep a hand on your wallet around.

 

The next step was to head to Redcliffe for negotiations with the rebel mages, and they loaded up accordingly. Cassandra was forced to stay behind, management of the inquisition demanding her attention, and Lopez simply refused to allow Varric to come along any longer.

“The damn ‘hog’s cramped enough as it is!”

Henry also stayed. The reason he only told to Lopez. He took possession of the salvage from the cargo pod, and set off to the abandoned mining complex in the mountains nearby.

 

Lopez, Gil-Galad, Sera, and Solas set out in a much lighter Warthog, headed toward Redcliffe. Along the way, they were to investigate possible allies who were willing to join the Inquisition, in particular, a mercenary unit known as “The Bull’s Chargers”, led by a Qunari warrior known as Iron Bull.

 

As they drove through a thick forest, the Warthog suddenly lurched, dipping through a massive pothole on the side of the road.

Lopez yanked the steering wheel hard, away from the side, and back onto the center. Concerned for damage, she glanced at the center console display. It was a digital screen, with four manual switches to flip between vehicle status, communications, navigation, and sensor data. A keypad was located between it and the throttle.

The top-down profile of the Warthog was all in blue, no damage registered. Double checking, she pulled down the other switches, making sure everything was intact. Navigation was already adjusting for similar potholes, correcting previous errors and adding additional recommendations.  
She almost didn’t see the new profile registered on the sensor sweeps.

 

High above and ahead of the racing Warthog, the little drone obediently scouted ahead for it's commander.  
As it moved, a ghost of a signal reached its electronic sensors, steadily growing into a steady signature, pulsating with each beat of its owner's heart.

Excitedly, the drone shot a signal kilometers behind it, rapidly gobbled up by the Warthog’s receiving array.  
Lopez stared at the radar display, flipping back and forth between other systems to make sure it wasn’t a glitch.

A green heartbeat.

Seconds later, as the drone drew closer, a group of yellow dots were revealed to be surrounding the green contact.

“Hang on!” the sergeant barked to her passengers. 

All semblance of a leisurely pace vanished, Lopez pushed the pedal to the medal, tapping controls for the drone to help her find the optimal route to take. Within seconds, nav markers appeared in her Heads-up Display, as well as an outline of the path.  
To the others suddenly thrown about in the vehicle, and clinging to it for dear life, her path was random and she barely avoided crashing many times.  
“What's going on?!” Gil-Galad demanded from beside her, tightening his seat belt and clinging to a handle near his head.  
“It's a Marine IFF tag!” Lopez shouted over the roaring wind, and the engine noise, “Looks like hostiles have surrounded him!”

“It’s a what?!”

“Magic location marker, or whatever! Magic!”

As they drove on, the crack of a rifle could be heard in the distance. Single shots, and a few short controlled bursts.

 

Up until now, there hadn't been any contact with any UNSC survivors. As previously assessed, it didn’t seem like there were any conventional escape pods that came down, with no radio transmissions, or any new IFF tags picked up. The tags were powered by the user’s body, and were specifically designed to shut down while in cryo stasis. Otherwise they would read the user’s heart as flatlined.  
In the back of her mind she realized that it might not have been MacCraw, but one of the freezer occupants.

She couldn't tell either way, the drone wasn't designed to pick up the name of an individual soldier, unlike military scanners.  
Typical CMA junk. Ridiculously prepared except when they aren’t.

Hoping against hope, Lopez listened to the rifle. It certainly sounded like a high-powered rifle, of the MA5 family, but there were many different types of rifles like that in the UNSC Defense Force, and on the black market.

Lopez flipped her helmet mike down, “This is Scarlett 1-1 Actual, Sergeant Lopez, of the UNSC Red Horse to unidentified unit. We are en route to your position from the northwest, ETA five minutes. We are ready to provide fire support.”

The sound of gunfire erupted from her earpiece, coinciding with a series of pops in the distance. A young male voice came over the channel. It wasn’t MacCraw.  
“I copy, Scarlett 1-1! This is Private Corlett, Bravo Company, 22nd Light Armored Recon Battalion, attached to the 79th Infantry Battalion, UNSC Pillar of Autumn!”  
He paused to fire off another few shots, “I am pinned down behind a tree trunk! Wounded! Laying down coordinates!”

Lopez swerved to avoid a tree, disheartened that it wasn’t MacCraw, but still in mama bear mode, “Copy that. How are you injured?” Lopez asked, swerving to avoid a tree.

The comm line was briefly silent, a burst of fire this time, “They shot me! They shot me with a freakin’ arrow!”

“I can guess that. How are you injured? Is it anywhere near an artery?”

The line was silent again.

“Private Corlett!”

“They...they shot me in the ass, ma’am!”

“Thank you…” Lopez slammed on the brakes, swerving around a corner, before she glanced at the radio again, “Repeat your last?”

“I got shot in the ass, alright?! What’s your ETA?!”

Ahead, the road rose up in a hill.

Lopez grinned, and went as fast as the Warthog would allow her to go.

It rocketed over the hill, catching some air, and coming down hard. A series of rapid bumps jostled its passengers.  
Lopez hit the brakes, swinging the vehicle around until the driver’s side faced the way they had come.

She pulled out her sidearm, and her crosshairs traveled from the first target to the second.

On her motion tracker, those last two bandits faded, leaving nothing behind but the dots in her vehicle and the one meters away and off the road.

Lopez clicked her seatbelt buckle, and hopped out, double-checking the remains of the speed bumps. Not one of the bandits had survived the impact, their skulls shattered by the heavy tires or the aluminum underbelly.

“Corlett! Private Corlett!” she called out, yanking her machete off her shoulder.

“Over here, Sarge!” a voice called. A man with blond hair, wearing a utility cap, goggles, old military surplus fatigues, a similarly-obsolete armored tactical jacket, sat up from behind a fallen tree. With one arm holding an MA5K carbine, he attempted to lever himself over the tree, but failed. His heavy pack weighed him down, constantly pulling him back.

Lopez jogged over, unclipped his pack, and dragged the private onto the log. A broken off arrow shaft was sticking out of a sensitive part of his upper thigh.  
“Jesus...Someone get me the bio-foam!”

“The what?” Sera demanded, falling off the Warthog and attempting to get to her feet.

“The green bottle with the long nozzle sticking out of it! Gil, you get it!”

Corlett’s eyes fluttered from the pain. His uniform wasn’t even issued this century, designed to stop bullets, arrows, and teeth, and do not much else. Thus, it had no painkillers of any kind.

“Private Corlett, reporting for duty…” he tried a weak smile, but dropped his carbine to hold the wound.

“Great, another comedian.” Lopez rolled her eyes. It felt good to be speaking english, despite the severity of the situation.

Gil-Galad appeared, handing her the biofoam before becoming quite sick.

 

Lopez, in one smooth motion, yanked out the arrow shaft and stuck the nozzle of the biofoam container inside.  
The private yelped with pain as the foam fizzed, filling the wound and sealing it completely.

“You’re fine. Think you can walk?”

His grimace of pain turned to one of mild serenity, and he didn't respond for a moment. He shook his head, “Oh, sorry. Hold on…”

Corlett sat up, and got onto one foot before gingerly setting the other down. Wincing, he reported, “Ready to go, Sarge.”

“Don’t try to be a hero. Go easy on that leg.”

“Yes ma’am. You would not believe how glad I am to see…” he trailed off when he spotted Gil-Galad, recovering from car sickness. He also saw Solas and Sera, the former returning his gaze, and the latter kicking one of the bandit remains.

From a holster he withdrew an obsolete old-style Gyrojet pistol, Navy-issue, “Sarge, who are your friends?”

“Stow that weapon, private, they’re on our side.”

“But what about the ears?” he demanded.

“Private, I once knew a guy who’s natural hair color was bright blue. This isn’t that weird. Now, put your weapon down. That’s an order.”

At the last word, he immediately put the weapon back in its holster.

Must be a rookie. Man, my luck lately…”Now, my name is Sergeant Lopez. Where’s the rest of your unit, Corlett? Where’s your ship? And where’d you get that old pistol?”  
Gyrojets, useful for zero-gee environments, hadn’t been issued since before the Insurrection began.

“My unit’s missing, Sergeant. As is my ship. I woke up in a frosty bed in the middle of a forest. I found an escape pod from some old transport, the Mona Lisa--”

Lopez immediately pulled out her own sidearm, “What did you see inside? Was there anything in there? Anything green and yellow and ugly as sin?”

The confused private stepped backwards, “What? No, nothing! It was empty!”

“Did you see anything escape, any motion out of the corner of your eye? Did you get bitten by anything?!”

“No, ma’am!” he replied in his best parade-ground voice, terrified out of his wits.

She grabbed his jacket and spun him around, looking for any evidence of the infection on his clothing, “Did you see anything in the equipment?”

“No, sergeant! What are you looking for?!”

Lopez stepped back, and quickly scanned him with her tricorder. Nodding in approval, she holstered her pistol, “Nothing...for now. You’re clean.”

Corlett stared at her, “Sarge, what are you--”

“It’s classified. Forget about it. Your ship, the Pillar of Autumn?”

“Yes, sergeant.”

“Where is she? What happened to her?”

Corlett shook his head, “No clue, ma’am. We went into the freezers after we left Reach, I assumed we were going back to the colonies. Next thing I know, I’m waking up here.”

Lopez asked, “What do you last remember before going into the freezers?”

He grimaced, “Only our escape from Reach. My battalion, the 22nd, we weren’t assigned to the Autumn. We were deployed in support of the Army attacking Szurdok Ridge. We were in reserve, so we didn’t see much action. Certainly could watch, though.”

Lopez tilted her head, “You were in the thick of it. I was up north, babysitting Sword Base until the call came down to evacuate. Well, evacuate my unit at least. Did you see the Grafton go down?”

Corlett nodded, avoiding eye contact, “Yeah, we saw it. Got pulled back. My company was separated from the rest of the battalion, sent to New Alexandria. All they had available I guess. We were outside the city when it got glassed, and we were ordered to go with the 9th Force Recon to the Aszod ship breaking yards, our only ticket out of there. Last few ships had left, except the Autumn. Barely got aboard, and a Covenant cruiser nearly blasted us. We got into orbit, jumped, went into cryo…”

Corlett shrugged, “Next thing I know, I’m waking up here. Where are we?”

“Unknown. My classified operation ended with me stuck in a civvie escape pod and shoved through a slipspace anomaly. Crashed here, made some friends with the locals.”

She gestured to the retching elf beside her, “There’s humans and these guys here. They’re probably connected to the neo-luddites from the start of the war. Tread lightly when talking to them. I can’t find any records of the United Nations, much less Earth. Looks like everything got erased. They’ve barely got germ theory back.”

“Slipspace anomaly--” Corlett’s eyes widened, “Are you telling me you made that giant hole in the sky?”

Lopez snorted, “I wish it was that simple, private. I have no idea what that thing is. Some weird slipspace portal that’s managed to stay open for longer than even the Covies could. We’re looking for some wizards and some of our own gear to try and close it. And before you ask, they’ve got some weird abilities here, but I have no idea what it really is.”

Realizing Gil-Galad was just about done, she patted his shoulder, “This is Gil-Galad, in charge of a group called the Inquisition.”

He glanced at both marines, confused. Gil-Galad could only pick up a smattering of words, and the new soldier’s name, he hadn’t had the chance for in-depth learning of english. He did hesitantly shake Private Corlett’s hand, at least.

 

“Do you know what happened to the Autumn, Sergeant? Other survivors? Where’s the rest of your unit?”

Lopez grimaced, and turned away, “My unit’s almost totally KIA. Only three of us made us off that ship. I have no idea what happened to the Autumn. Here--” she activated controls to transmit the drone connection to his HUD, “All I can find are a bunch of auxiliary unit distress beacons. Freezers and crates. Last info I’ve got from your cruiser is she went missing after Reach. My guess? She made a bunch of random jumps, ended up here, then something happened and she broke up in orbit. Dunno why there’s no bumblebee or kangaroo escape pods, maybe the crew was incapacitated, or the awake crew didn’t have time to evacuate before she blew. I’m sorry.”

Corlett blinked. He covered his mouth, “Oh god…”

Sera and Solas stumbled over, and his eyes fixed on their ears.

“How many are like that?” The private asked. He was reaching out like a drowning man, looking for any sort of distraction.

“A lot of them. Ask 'em yourself if you’re so curious.” Lopez rolled her eyes.

Corlett shrugged, opened his TACPAD, tapped a control, and stepped forward. His headset wirelessly connected to Lopez’s equipment, downloading a copy of her Thedas language data.

Lopez facepalmed, muttering under her breath, “I didn’t mean...fine, do it if you’re so curious.”

 

Gil-Galad was sick again, so the private glanced at Sera and Solas. More at Sera. “Uh, hey guys! What’s with the ears? That some genetic engineering thing?”

The elves looked at each other, and Solas asked, “Excuse me?”

“I didn’t mean ask about the ears!” Lopez hissed, but it was too late.

“Your ears. They’re really long. I mean, I’ve seen some weird gene mods in the past. My old lieutenant was from the Éire colony, and she had hair green as a shamrock! Another guy, Pete Armand, was from Ganymede, and he has adaptive bone marrow...okay, you couldn’t really see that, but for the first few days in boot camp he couldn’t lift heavy things. Anyway, I’ve seen some weird mods, but I’ve never seen anything like your ears. What’s with them?”

Lopez was rubbing the bridge of her nose. Great. We’re either gonna die, or gonna get a bunch of superstitious nonsense.

Sera blinked rapidly, then turned to Solas, whose expression remained neutral-yet-off, “Okay, you speak their language. What did he say? Because I could have sworn he said something about our ears!”

Solas ignored her, “You said ‘mods’. I assume that is short for ‘modification’. Modification of what?”

Corlett stared, “You know, they’re gene mods. Colonists use them to survive on different planets.”

“Human colonists, I assume?” Solas inquired.

“Duh.”

“What did he say?” Sera demanded, “Because I heard ‘ears’!”

Solas’ expression changed again, “I believe he thinks we’re odd-looking humans.”

Gil-Galad staggered over, “What? We’re elves, not humans.”

Sera threw up her hands, “I can’t go anywhere without someone talking about the ears!”

Corlett flushed, “Uh…”

Solas’ voice was calm, but cold, “We are not humans. Aesthetic similarities aside, we are two completely different species.”

Lopez reluctantly nodded, “Yep, they’re aliens. Trust me, I checked.”

Corlett somehow became even redder, “Oh shit, shit! I am so sorry! I didn’t mean--Ah, shit!”

Sera made an aggressive move forward, and Gil-Galad managed to step between the two.  
Corlett half-heartedly raised his carbine, but Lopez forcibly shoved it down, “Stand down, marine! These are friendlies!”

She turned back to the elves, “You lay a hand on him, and I’ll see it takes you six weeks to die! You can all stand down! So he made a little mistake, big fucking deal! I made the same mistake for a while, you gonna lynch me too?!”

“You didn’t talk about my ears!” Sera snapped.

“Sera, it doesn’t matter! Let it go!” Gil-Galad snarled.

“Why aren’t you mad?!” she demanded, “You’re all elfy!”

“Sera, calm down! By Fen’harel’s teeth, he’s just a boy!”

 

Sera moved her glare away from Gil and onto Corlett, past Lopez’s hostile gaze. The marine stood unevenly on his leg, his weapon shaking somewhat in his hands. Lopez is pretty stupid about this stuff sometimes too, she thought, was it really just an innocent question?

She relaxed, still glaring at Corlett. “Just this once, you.”

The rest of the group relaxed somewhat.

Solas spoke up, “Private Corlett, have you never seen an elf before?”

He shook his head, “Never.”

The bald elf frowned, “Interesting. Lopez, when did you first see members of our kind?”

“When I first got here.” she answered warily.

“Neither of you have seen elves before us?” Gil-Galad asked in disbelief, “How?”

“We’re not from around here,” Corlett explained, “We’re from the United Nations Space Command.”

Lopez held up a hand, “They know that, Private. Remember rules of first contact.”

“But sarge--”

“Private, lock it down.”

Solas’ expression shifted somewhat, still unreadable.

Sera was befuddled, “Where do you come from? Everywhere I’ve gone everyone’s at least heard of elves!”

“We have--” Corlett shut up.

Gil-Galad rubbed his face, taking a deep breath. “Everyone, it’s been a long day. We have more time to spend in the back of that blasted horseless carriage, and it will only be made worse if we are holding grudges. Can we agree to put our arguments on hold until this mission is over?”

Lopez nodded, “I can keep my man under control. Can you say the same for your people?”

Gil-Galad glanced at Solas and Sera. Reluctant, they nodded.

“Well then. Let us get back on the road.”

Gil-Galad and Sera returned to the Warthog.

Before the others could do the same, Solas spoke up once again, “Sergeant, do you not wish to tell him of the other survivor from your ship? Henry?”

Lopez blinked, then glared at the elf.

Corlett looked at her, “What’s he talking about?”

Lopez’s hands balled into fists, “I said there were three survivors of my unit, right?”

“Yeah...where are they, anyway?” the private glanced around as if they were going to come out of the woods.

“One is missing. I thought you were him before I talked to you, actually. He took one escape pod, me and the third guy took another.”

“Okay, where’s the third guy? Is that Henry?”

Lopez nodded, “Private, he’s the only reason I’m alive. You need to understand that. The only way we survived was helping each other. Henry kept my squad alive when I couldn’t.”

“Sarge, what’s the big deal? Is he a convict or something? I’m gonna guess you were on the Mona Lisa. I don’t care if he was a convict, we’re all humans, right?”

“He is not human, he is a Sangheili Special Operations Officer.” Solas stated.

Corlett stared at him. He looked at Lopez, and a grin started to form, “You’re kidding me, right? A hinge-head? C’mon…”

The sergeant’s grim expression confirmed it.

“Sarge...what is going on? What is he talking about?”

Lopez scratched the back of her head, “Henry is a nickname for a...for a hinge-head. An Elite. Can’t pronounce his real name. He was a POW that members of my squad picked up. He helped us fight, and kept my kids alive. He also managed to find a way to get both of us off the ship when there was only one space left in the pod. We’ve been surviving here together. He’s back at the headquarters for these guys, working on a special project.”

Corlett asked, “Wait, so he turned on his own people?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that. Everything about my mission is classified. He fought alongside us is all I can say.”

“But...he’s an Elite!”

“I’m aware.”

“Has...well, hasn't he tried to kill you? Isn't that what they do? He's a dino, isn't he?”

Lopez snorted, “We both tried to kill each other. Eventually we gave up. He's got no gear other than a cricket bat and a hatchet. I had to make a snowsuit for him out of a parachute so he wouldn't freeze to death!”

“But sergeant!” Corlett looked like someone had asked him if the sky was blue, “he's a dino!”

“I am aware.”

“So…! We can't just--”

“Listen, Marine!” Lopez snapped.

Corlett froze, his eyes wide.

“We are stranded here. We are stuck. Unless there were any Condors on your ship that made it here intact, we're not getting rescued anytime soon. The number of UNSC personnel we have I can count on one hand. The number of people who know a damn about anything past swords is that plus one. That hinge-head is the only reason I'm still here to save your ass. Trust me, no one hates Elites more than I do. I'm no traitor. But we need him. He has skills we need, he has Intel that could prove vital to the war effort. If anyone's killing him, it's me. You don't have to like him. But we can't kill him.”

He looked at her, a mix of emotions running through his wide eyes.  
“Ma'am...isn't this fraternization with the enemy? I mean, okay, you vouch for this shark, but what if an officer made it off the ship?”

“He's good for Intel, private. Don't worry, if anything bad happens, I'll take responsibility. You'll be alright kid, I promise.”

Corlett looked down at his rifle, fidgeting. His obvious doubt of a stranger wrestling with his training to follow the sergeant.   
He must've been new, with the way he seemed to already have faith in Lopez. “I guess I’m okay with keeping him around...”

Lopez nodded, “Alright. You good? Let’s get moving.”

Solas had watched the whole exchange, noting every word and body language. Intriguing.

 

They walked back to the Warthog, and Corlett asked Lopez, “What’s been happening since Reach?”

Lopez sighed, “Things aren’t going well back home. We’ve got our backs against the wall. When my ship left, everything was pointing toward Earth. They were pulling every ship they could back to Sol. Proxima Centauri and our base at Beta Durani fell.”

“Proxima III’s gone?” Corlett gasped, “But...but the 8th fleet! The Punic!” To think that a UNSC supercarrier, one of the most powerful and one of the largest ships in the fleet, could be destroyed, was always a blow to morale.

“Gone. They deployed in Proxima Centauri, couldn’t protect both colonies what with war losses. The 8th managed to take the Covies by surprise, catching them with their shields down. Then they made an in-system jump like Cole did, and jumped out, while the Punic stayed in orbit.”

“What happened to her?” whispered Corlett, his heart sinking. 

Lopez looked into the distance, “The Covies were pissed at the losses, and she was sitting there in orbit, so they charged her...right into the asteroid mining cluster. Hit a minefield, then got shelled by mass drivers. Punic took down a lot of their ships, but took heavy damage. She crashed into their supercarrier, set her reactors to critical. Took out most of the Covie fleet, then our guys came charging in to mop up the rest of them. Technically we won, but the shipyards were gone, and a ton of junk started falling out of orbit. The colony’s going through a nuclear winter.”

Corlett cursed, “I had family there. My sister was a zero-gravity constructor at Station Schirra.”

Lopez patted him on the shoulder, “We only managed to take out so many ships because we got word they were coming. The transports were pouring out even after nuclear winter started. If she’s a constructor, she’s valuable. She probably got out.”

Corlett slumped, “She always did things no one else wanted to do, but needed to be done. She must’ve been one of the ones who stayed with the mass drivers.”

Lopez asked, “She civilian or military?”

“Civilian worker on military dock.”

“There you have it. There might have been a few volunteers, but most of the guys who stayed probably would’ve been military. They just wouldn't allow many civilians to stay. Even if she tried to, maybe her supervisor forced her onto a transport or something. That happens all the time. Even if she might be dead, don’t lose hope unless you see a body. I had a cousin and her family the rest of my relatives thought were dead when Madrigal got hit. Seven years later, I ran into them, along with a bunch of Innies in an asteroid colony my ship was investigating. We rescued the colony from the bad guys, with a big-ass asteroid ship, and got them back to UNSC space. Don’t give up on her just yet.”

He nodded solemnly. “Yes ma’am.”

Lopez patted him on the back, a little hard, “I mean it.”

 

“I heard scuttlebutt about some deep patrol ops,” Corlett muttered, some positivity leaking into his voice, “Some super weapons too. And Earth was getting the Big Sticks online. Maybe FLEETCOM can wipe out their fleet when they attack, and we can turn the tide…”

Lopez glanced at his hopeful expression, remembering many faces just like his over the years, remembering those same faces gone from roll call. Shredded by plasma fire, scarred by experience.  
“Yeah, sure. Fight isn’t over till it’s over.”

 

XXXXX

 

They continued on their journey to the Chargers, finding the group’s last known location in yet another sea bay. Rain pounded down on the Warthog’s windshield, and Lopez could swear she’d been in this exact same sea bay before.

Private Corlett was in the passenger seat, tapping away on a laptop built into the vehicle.

“The storm’s screwing with the drone, Sarge.” he reported, the screen flickering with static, “How long has it been up there?”

Lopez glanced down at the display on the center column, showing a smaller view of what Corlett was seeing. She punched it, and the snow vanished.

“You didn’t answer my question, ma’am.”

“I don’t have to. It’ll be fine.”

In a window of Corlett’s laptop, a panoramic view displayed feed from the drone’s cameras. He could just make out the bucking motion of the little vehicle as it rode the wind.  
“If you say so…” he muttered.

 

Sensors eventually picked up a significant number of thermal signatures on a beach. The signatures were all clustered in amongst each other, but there was a distinct line between the two; this combined with their overlapping shapes meant they were likely fighting. In preparation, Corlett folded up the laptop, and edged up in the seat, bracing himself against the roll cage and allowing him a 270 degree field of fire.  
“Single shots, Private, we gotta save ammo.” instructed Lopez.

Engine roaring, the Warthog shot along the road toward a low hill between them and the beach; the road led through a small pass in the center of it.

They caught air as they hurtled onto the beach, speeding past a beached boat and toward the group of heat signatures.  
Figures in Tevinter armor, Venatori, were combating others in mismatched plate armor. They were obviously the Chargers, led by the highly visible Iron Bull; the big horned one-eyed Qunari dressed in the same gear and carrying a sledgehammer.   
The fighting briefly stopped as they saw the vehicle approach.

Corlett’s put his targeting reticule down on the center of a Venatori man’s chest. The reticule turned red, and he pulled the trigger. The man doubled over, clutching the wound, but the private had already swapped targets.

Pow! Another man went down.

Pow! An archer fell, his drawn arrow released into the sky.

Lopez hit the brakes, water and rocks tossed up from the ground. The party leapt from the back, and took a moment to recover. Solas and Gil-Galad began flinging spells at the enemy, Sera delivered arrows, but the marines conserved their ammo.

 

The chargers moved into action again, taking down the rapidly dwindling Venatori. They quickly broke ranks and fled, sending a ragged cheer through the Charger ranks.

Iron Bull stepped in front of his soldiers when they tried to pursue, “Chargers, stand down!”

He glanced at one of his men, “Krem, how’d we do?”

“Five or six wounded, none dead!”

The Qunari grinned, “That’s what I like to hear. Let the throat cutters finish up, then break out the casks.”

He looked at the party a dozen meters away, “You with the Inquisition? Glad you could make it! C’mon and sit down, drinks are on the way!”

Lopez hadn’t been listening. The instant she heard his orders to his men, she sprinted toward a charger kneeling down next to a writhing Tevinter.  
The charger took out a knife, and she reached for the Venatori’s neck, before the sergeant slammed the butt of her MA5B into the woman’s head.

Flipping the rifle around, she pointed it at another two nearby readying their own knives, “Drop ‘em!”

When they didn’t respond fast enough, she fired a shot at the ground, “Now, damn it!”

Corlett caught up with her, adding further encouragement. The chargers stepped away from the moaning wounded.   
Their comrades surrounded Lopez and Corlett, knocking arrows and raising weapons. However, none were as impressive as the massive commander stomping toward Lopez.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?!” he demanded, “You pick on my soldiers, and you have to deal with me!”

 

Iron Bull noted many things about the newcomer. She was a head taller than the humans he normally ran into, nearly reaching his shoulders. She was much more fit and well-fed than many he’d seen in a long time. Her armor was light in shape, but exuded a sense of strength and intimidation, much like elven armor. It was covered in materials and devices he’d never seen before. She carried a weapon of a sort that barely resembled any he'd seen of a similar type. Just like her vehicle, things like that were never seen outside Qunari territory.  
Over her eyes, under her strange helmet, was visor made of a clear thin material. Not glass, but something else.

Her comrade was a little shorter than she was, and didn’t wear obvious armor, but he carried a weapon like hers, the eye covering, and a uniform with the same symbols as hers.

Both of their outfits were primarily a dark green, with the male’s uniform mixed with brown in patterns.  
As if those weren’t strange enough, he had absolutely no idea who they could be. Now that, was unusual.

The woman was likely the superior; on a shoulder pad were three stacked chevrons, while the man had only a single chevron.  
She would be tough to deal with diplomatically. In most circumstances, he could rely on charm, or intimidation to get by, but this human didn’t seem like the type to respond to the latter. He searched for hints of fear in her eyes, but there was nothing. There was only cold determination and rage. The former might not work so well either...

 

Lopez, breathing heavily, and barely containing her outrage, replied, “I am Sergeant Lopez of the UNSC Marine Corps. As a representative of the United Nations, I am obligated to enforce the rules of the Geneva Convention! Maybe you can explain why your troops were going to murder helpless prisoners?!”

“Sarge, what are you doing?” Corlett demanded, “I don’t think UN rules work here!”

“Sergeant, please, lower your weapon!” Gil-Galad cried.

“I won’t! I am going to do my job!” Lopez barked.

Iron Bull growled, “You kill all the bad guys, then turn around and attack us?! I thought the Inquisition wanted our help!”

“I repeat, why did you order your men to kill these prisoners?”

Iron Bull raised an eyebrow, “What does it matter?”

“Captain, mistreatment of prisoners is a human rights violation, and a war crime. Furthermore, under the United Nations Mercenary Convention, mercenary groups are considered illegal. You have no rights as a combatant or a prisoner of war. As we are currently in an active war zone, under article 47 of Protocol 1 of the Geneva Convention, as a mercenary you and your unit are unlawful combatants, and therefore cannot be judged under the third Geneva Convention. I am arresting all of you, to be judged under the fourth Geneva Convention.”

“Sarge?!”

“Sergeant Lopez!”

“You’re really going to arrest me? On what charge?!” Iron Bull demanded.

“Abuse of prisoners! Being a mercenary! Recruitment, use, financing, and training of mercenaries!”

“I don’t recognize your authority!”

“That’s real tough! That means you’re not covered under the fourth Geneva Convention!”

Gil-Galad came closer, “Sergeant, we came to recruit him, not arrest him!”

“He’s not someone we want! He has a right to a fair trial, and that’s it!”

“Sergeant, your military may have rules of war, but nations around here don’t have any. I’m not proud of it, but even the Inquisition's soldiers have committed acts such as this. It’s simply the way things are!”

Lopez turned toward him, “That’s going to change. That is all going to change. As of this moment, I am going to begin enforcement of the United Nations Charter, and international law. Something I should’ve done when I got here.”

Iron Bull put a hand on her shoulder, “Who in the world are you? Where did--”

Lopez swept her rifle butt into his face. Hard. Enough to stagger him.

“Shut up. We’re talking.”

She turned back to Gil-Galad, “You’re in charge of the Inquisition. Either you get them to sign onto the Geneva Convention, and all the other laws, or Corlett and I are out of here.”

“I--”

“Choose now! I can get you all the documents! You get us, or you get nothing!”

Gil-Galad swallowed, but his voice was steady, “I will ensure it is done. And I will try to convince the Dalish to do the same.”

“Are we really having this conversation now?!” Corlett demanded, “We’ve got about a dozen angry shitheads pointing arrows at us!”

“And one angry Qunari!” Iron Bull said, “What is going on here?!”

Lopez raised her rifle, but Gil-Galad stepped between the two, “Might we come to a compromise? Iron Bull, we came to recruit you for the Inquisition.”

“I’m thinking about withdrawing that offer…”

Gil Galad grunted in Lopez’s direction, and continued, “Would you be willing to officially enlist in the Inquisition's armed forces, in exchange for a pardon of all charges? You’d have to give up being mercenaries, however, and agree to not become a mercenary group again once your service is up.”

“If autonomy is something you want, you could be an irregular force.” Corlett suggested.

“Private, don’t help him.” Lopez snapped, “Captain, you’re going to have to provide medical aid to the wounded, and deliver them to the nearest Inquisition force.”

Iron Bull considered it, “Will we get paid?”

“That’s what ‘employment’ means, Captain.” Lopez growled.

“Fair enough…” Iron Bull sighed, “You’re probably the only ones who could afford us, and I don’t want to be on the losing side of those guns.”

 

While Gil negotiated, Lopez stalked off back toward the Warthog.

Corlett followed her, afraid of being left alone with the...locals.

Lopez kicked one of the hog’s tires, making the recon soldier jump.

“Jeez, Sarge, what’s got you all riled up? The Covies never followed the Geneva Convention--”

Lopez cursed, “Do we?”

“Of course we do!”

“Not anymore.”

Corlett paled, “What?”

Lopez winced, “It’s Classified. Everything’s classified. Classified,” she kicked the tire again, “Classified,” another kick, “Classified!” Kick. “Classified!”

“Classified doesn’t help my squad’s families! Classified doesn’t bring them back! Classified never saved anyone!”

From a pocket she brought out a jangling set of a dozen dog tags, tied together with a carabiner, “They’re dead! They’re all dead, because of ONI and their damn experiments!”

She sagged against the vehicle, “What does classified even mean anymore? The Epsilon Eridani Fleet’s gone, Reach is gone, Beta Durani, Proxima Centauri…Classified doesn’t mean a damn thing anymore.”

The sergeant made a decision, “The Red Horse was sent to this debris field in the middle of nowhere, way off the beaten path. It was all really weird, our AI was replaced with some stuck-up greek bitch, and our Commander Foucault had all sorts of classified orders. I don’t know what the wreckage is from, but whatever it was, it was big. We picked up escape pods from a prison transport, the Mona Lisa, pretty far away from anywhere it should be. There was only one survivor, but he didn’t last long. The skipper sent my squad, along with a pilot, three engineers, and an extra doc, so we could figure out what was going on, and to burn out the nav data. We went in, killed some Covie prisoners who’d escaped. Lost one of my kids to one of them. We split up to carry out the Cole Protocol, my fireteam to the bridge, a second to engineering, led by my medic Benti, and a third to guard the Pelican.”

Her hands twitched, “My guys at the Pelican...dunno what happened to them. We lost contact with the Pelican and Benti. Then we found out what was going on. Rescued a survivor, an ONI Major John Smith.”

She punched the Warthog, “The ship was infested with this thing called The Flood. It makes whoever it infects get up and turn into a damn-near unstoppable killing machine. Smith’s team was experimenting on it, on human and Covie prisoners. He said they wanted a cure, but they wanted a weapon more, if they wanted to cure it at all.”

“What?!” Corlett squeaked, “A...a bioweapon? But…No, it couldn’t be...”

“Private, we found a ton of data. We found video! They deliberately infected hinge-heads and convicts just to see what would happen!”

She pointed at a dent in the armor on her side. Several small pockmarks left by 7.62mm rifle rounds, “The bastard killed one of my men, shot at me, and stole the Pelican. Hell, maybe he shot my pilot, I don’t know how. He abandoned us, told Foucault we were dead, then ordered him to fire a nuke at the Mona Lisa. One thing Foucault did for us, the one thing, was tell us about two more escape pods left. Everyone not infected ran there, what was left of Benti’s group, myself, and the only survivor of my team, MacCraw. Henry was one of the two survivors Benti’s team picked up. We find out the pods can only fit one each, and then one of my kids--Clarence, he turned out to be a fucking ONI plant. He shot the other survivor, but Benti…”  
She swallowed, “Benti pushed him into the zombies, taking herself with him. MacCraw, the idiot, took one of the pods, and Henry and I took the other.”

The sergeant shrugged, “There was something wrong with the thing’s jump engines, I guess a bunch of the pods got pulled into a slipspace portal, including us.”

She held up the dog tags again, “There were eighteen of us, and I got seven of these things. ONI decided to violate every law on the treatment of prisoners in one sitting, left us for dead, killed sixteen of my kids, the entire crew of that freighter, its prisoners, all those POWs, and tried to kill me. The Covies burn worlds like pot roasts, and yet they never tried to use bioweapons on us. They never experimented on prisoners, they never did anything like that. I trust Henry now more than I’ll trust a spook ever again.”

Staring at the dog tags, Lopez concluded, “...So you’ll understand if I don’t approve of anyone not having a Geneva Convention. Not while I’m still breathing. The Inquisition’s going to follow the rules of war, or we leave. That’s it.”

Corlett was quiet, and pale. He slowly looked down at his jacket, and his shirt. Gingerly, he lifted his arms up, “Sarge...the infection, how does it spread? Do I need to burn these?”

“Kid, you should be fine. How long have you worn those?”

“A few days…”

“If you aren’t trying to eat my brains, you’re fine.”

He relaxed a little, tightening his lips, not knowing what else to say. “I’m sorry about your squad.”

“Thanks.” she put the tags back in her pocket, “Here’s hoping we can find yours.”

 

Corlett looked down the beach toward the crowd of Chargers, “Company’s coming.”

Lopez turned to see Gil-Galad and his party approaching, with Iron Bull behind them.

Lopez took her sidearm out of its holster when they finally arrived, “What is he doing here?”

“Uh, Sarge…”

“Gil! Answer me!”

Gil-Galad held up a hand, “He’s volunteered to serve as a frontline bodyguard, and volunteered his unit to follow us to Redcliffe.”

“We appreciate the help, but we don’t need you as a bodyguard.” Lopez said.

“Those weapons of yours, is their ammunition limited?” Iron Bull asked.

“They have a large stockpile, but it will run out eventually.” Solas replied before Lopez could speak. “You may have noticed she keeps a sword with her.”

“I’m gonna guess you don’t know when your next resupply is coming either, do you? Well, then you might need an extra hand.”

Lopez worked her jaw, he’s got a point. Was that a guess, or does he know how guns work?

“Fine. Any more bombshells to drop?”

Idioms still didn’t translate quite right. She rolled her eyes, “Anything else significant we need to know?”

Sera shrugged, “He’s with the Ben-Hassarath, does that count?”

“What’s that?” Lopez’s thumb moved down on the safety of her pistol.

Gil-Galad made an odd expression, “They’re a Qunari organization, the equivalent of guards, city watch…”

“They’re a sort of Secret Police,” Iron Bull said evenly, “Though I’m closer to spies.”

Lopez raised her pistol, targeting reticule right next to his eye patch, “You had better tell me Ferelden’s relationship with the Qunari, or you’re going home in a body bag.”

“They’re neutral!” Gil-Galad said quickly, “Not exactly friendly, but they’re neutral!”

“Why are you here?” Lopez demanded, “What are your orders?”

“I don’t really have to tell you anything, I’m only supposed to report to the people in charge of the Inquisition.” Iron Bull had to look down at her to maintain eye contact, “Where do you fit in with the chain of command?”

Gil-Galad answered Lopez, “He’s supposed to help deal with the Breach, and send reports on what’s happening. However, he gets reports from all over the area, and is going to share them with our people.”

Lopez lowered her pistol slowly. He might have intel on the Autumn. Maybe someone even saw her explode.

“Fine. Fine!”

She pushed her pistol back in its holster, “Fine. Let’s hope the Warthog doesn’t shatter under the weight of his fat ass.”

Glancing at Iron Bull, she pointed at his soldiers further down the beach, “Your Chargers will tend to those wounded, and pass them to the nearest Inquisition unit; there should be one a few klicks that way. Then, they’ll will follow us, though I doubt they could keep up. Just tell them to head to Redcliffe.”


End file.
